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THE P'LAMES REACHED TOWARD ME GREEDILY 
(Page 63) 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 

And Their Homestead Claim 


a Storg for ©trl0 


BY 

MRS. CARRI E L. MARSHALL 

Author of “ The Girl Ranchers/^ Etc. 7 


ILLUSTRATED BY IDA WAUGH 

W 



THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
PHILADELPHIA MDCCCXCIX 





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I'fM 


CONTENTS 


CHAP. page 

I I Go ON AN Errand 7 

II The Will of the Waters 23 

III At the Mouth of the Shaft 37 

IV A Plot Foiled 44 

V An Exciting Experience 57 

VI A Visit from Mrs. Horton 68 

VII Surmises 77 

VIII “Best Laid Plans” 92 

IX An Important Announcement 108 

X Ralph and I go Blackberrying 118 

XI The Cattle Brand 130 

XII On the Trail of a Wildcat 145 

XIII Joe Disappears 158 

XIV At the Storage Reservoir 172 

XV Chased by Wolves 183 


5 


6 


CONTENTS 


CHAP. PAGE 

XVI A Sleepless Night 194 

XVII A Queer Bank 207 

XVIII A Vital Point 227 

XIX Mr. Hort>)N Makes us a Visit 240 

XX Guard Makes a jNIistake 253 

XXI A Friend in Need 261 

XXII An Open Window . 273 

XXIII Alone on the Claim 284 

XXIV Hunting for Guard • • • 294 

XXV Guard’s Prisoner 304 

XXVI Mr. Horton Capitulates 316 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


CHAPTER I 

I GO ON AN EKRAND 

A FIERCE gust of wind and rain struck the 
windows, and Jessie, on her way to the breakfast 
table, dish in hand, paused to listen. 

‘‘ Raining again !” she exclaimed, setting the 
dish down emphatically. ‘‘ It seems to me that 
it has rained every day this spring. When it 
hasn’t poured here in the valley, it has more 
than made up for it in the mountains.” 

‘‘ You are more than half right,” father said, 
drawing his chair up to the table. ‘‘ Is break- 
fast ready, dear? I am going to work in the 
mines to-day, and I’m in something of a hurry.” 

“ Going to work in the mines !” Jessie echoed 
the words, as, lam sure, I did also. I was sit- 

7 


8 


TWO WYOMING GIliLS 


ting in the corner dressing little Kalpli, or, to 
be strictly accurate, trying to dress him. No 
three year-old that ever lived could be more 
exasperating than he sometimes was during that 
ordeal or could show a more pronounced distaste 
for the bondage of civilized garments. 

Jessie made haste to dish uj^ the breakfast, 
but she inquired : Do you remember, papa, 
what that old miner who was here the other 
day told us about mines in the wet season ? 
About what was liable to haj)pen sometimes, 
and did happen here once, a good many years 
ago?’’ 

I don’t know that I do,” father answered, 
glancing toward Ralph and me, to see if we 
were ready. As we were anything but that, he 
continued ; ‘‘ I guess I won’t wait for you chil- 
dren.” 

Don’t, jdease!” I exclaimed, ‘‘Ralph is a 
perfect little buzz-saw this morning. Keep still, 
Ralph !” 

“ Me want to do barefoot ! Me want to wade 
in ’e puddle !” cried the child, pulling one soft 


I GO ON AN ERRAND 


9 


little foot out of the stocking that I had just 
succeeded in getting uj^on it. 

Ralph I cried, angrily : “ IVe a good no- 
tion to spank you !” 

‘‘Don’t, Leslie!” father interposed, mildly; 
“ I remember so well how I liked to wade in the 
mud-puddles when I was a little shaver ; but it’s 
too early in the season, and too cold for that 
sort of sport now. So, Ralph, my boy, let sister 
• dress you, and don’t hinder.” 

Ralph always obeyed father’s slightest word, 
no matter how gently the word was spoken ; so 
now he sat demurely silent while I completed 
his toilet. 

“ What was it that your friend, the miner, 
said, Jessie ?” father asked, as Jessie took her 
seat and poured out his coffee. 

“ He said that there had been so much rain 
on the mountains, and that the Crusoe mines 
were on such a low level that there was some 
danger of an inrush of water, like that which 
ruined the Lost Chance, before we came here.” 

“ I recollect hearing something about the Lost 


10 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


Chance/^ father said, going on with his breakfast 
indifferently. ‘‘There may Jiave been water 
crevices in it. The accident was probably caused 
by them — and neglect.^’ 

“ I don’t see how it could be all due to 
neglect,” Jessie persisted. “ The miner said that 
the springs and rivers were all booming full, just 
as they are now. People never thought of danger 
from the water, because it was so often warm and 
dry in the valley — as it is, you know, often, even 
when it is raining hard on the mountains. ' The 
miner said that the men Avent on with their Avork 
ill the mine, as usual, until, one afternoon, the 
timbered walls of the tunnels slumped in like so 
much wet sand. What had been underground 
passages became, in a moment, underground 
rivers, for the Avater that had been held back and 
dammed up so long just poured in in a droAvn- 
ing flood. He said that the rainfall seeped 
through the bogs up on the mountains, and fed 
underground reservoirs that held the Avater 
safely until they Avere overtaxed. When that 
happened the Avater would burst out, finding an 


I GO ON AN ERRAND 


11 


outlet for itself in some new place. The only 
reason that any one of the force of thirty men 
usually employed in the mine escaped was that 
the accident occurred just as they were putting 
on a new shift. I remember very well what he 
told us.’’ 

I see that you do,” father responded, with a 
thoughtful glance at her earnest face, ‘^but I 
reckon he rather overdid the business. These 
old miners are always full of whims and fore- 
casts ; they are as superstitious as sailors.” 

‘‘ What he told was not superstition ; it was 
a fact,” replied Jessie, with unexpected logic. 

Father smiled. ‘‘Well, anyway, don’t you 
get to worrying about the Gray Eagle, daughter. 
It’s rather damp these days, I admit, but as safe 
as this kitchen.” 

“ Do you really think so, papa ?” Jessie asked, 
evidently reassured. 

“ Well, perhaj^s not quite as safe,” father 
answered, with half a smile. “ It’s a good deal 
darker for one thing, you know, and there are 


noises — 


12 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


He lapsed into that kind of listening silence 
that comes to one who is striving to recall some- 
thing that has been heard, not seen, or felt, and 
I was about to insist upon a further elucidation 
of those subterranean sounds when the door 
opened and a man, whom father had hired for 
the day, jiut in his head : 

“ Say, Mr. Gordon, I can’t find a spade any- 
where,” he announced. 

Well, there !” father exclaimed, with a dis- 
turbed look, ‘‘ our spade was left at the mine 
the last day that we worked there.” 

That’s too bad !” the man, who was a neigh- 
bor, as neighbors go on the frontier, said regret- 
fully. “ I can go back home and get mine, but 
the team’s hitched uj) ; it’s stopj)ed raining, an’ 
there’s a load of posts on the wagon. Seems 
’most a pity for me to take time to go an’ hunt 
up a spade, but I reckon I’ll have to do iL I 
never saw the man yet that could dig post holes 
without one.” 

Oh, no, Reynolds, don’t stop your work for 
that; I’ll have to bring mine down; it’s about 


I GO ON AN ERRAND 


13 


as near to get it from the Gray Eagle as to go to 
one of the neighbors ; you just go on with your 
work/’ 

Reynolds withdrew accordingly, and, as the 
door closed upon him, father said : 

I’m anxious to earn every dollar I can to 
help fence that wheat field, before Horton’s cat- 
tle ‘ accidentally ’ stray into it. I was out to 
look at it this morning. The field looks as if 
covered with a green carpet, it’s coming up so 
thick. I count it good luck to be able to get 
Reynolds to go on with the fence-building while 
I work in the mine, for I can exchange work to 
pay him, while the pay that comes from the 
mine is so much cash.” 

“And when we get our title clear, won’t I 
shoo Mr. Horton’s cattle to the ends of the 
earth !” I said, resentfully, for we all under- 
stood well enough that the reason that father 
was so anxious to earn money was to pay for the 
final “ proving up ” on his homestead claim, as 
well as to build fences. “ I’m teaching Guard 
to ‘ heel ’ on purpose to keep track of those 


14 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


cattle/^ I concluded, audaciously, for father 
didn’t approve of a policy of retaliation. 

‘‘ Horton’s cattle are not to blame,” lie said 
now, but the shadow that always came over his 
patient face at the mention of our intractable 
neighbor settled heavily upon it as he siioke. 

‘‘I know the cattle are not to blame,” I re- 
torted, with a good deal of temper. ‘‘ I just wish 
that their master himself would come out and 
trample on our corn and wallow in our wheat 
field, instead of driving his cattle up so ' that 
they may do it ; I’d set Guard on him with the 
greatest pleasure.” 

“Now, now, Leslie, you shouldn’t talk so!” 
father remonstrated gently. 

But here Jessie, whose disposition is much 
more placid than mine, broke in, abruptly : 

“ I don’t blame Leslie for feeling so, father. 
Only think, we’ve been on this place nearly five 
years, and we’ve never yet raised a crop, be- 
cause Mr. Horton’s cattle, no matter where they 
may be ranging, always get up here just in 
time — the right time — to do the most damage. 


I GO ON AN ERRAND 


15 


The other neighbors’ cattle hardly ever stray 
into our fields, and when they do the neighbors 
are good about it. Think of the time when Mr. 
Rollins’s herd got into the corn field and ate the 
corn rows down, one after another. Mr. Rol- 
lins came after them himself, and paid the dam- 
age, without a word of complaint. Besides, lie 
said that it shouldn’t happen again ; and it 
didn’t. When has Mr. Horton ever done a 
thing like that ?” 

He’s been kept busy other ways,” father 
said, and his voice had none of the resentment that 
Jessie’s expressed. “ The last time that his cat- 
tle got in here I went to see him about it, and he 
said that the field was a part of the range, being 
unfenced, and that any lawyer in the United 
States would sustain him in saying so. He was 
quite right, too — only he was not neighborly.” 

‘‘ Neighborly ! I should say not,” Jessie ex- 
claimed, with a lowering brow. “ His horses 
have trampled down our garden and girdled all 
our fruit trees, even to the Seckel pear that 
mother brought from grandfather’s.” 


IG 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


‘‘I know; it is very trying/’ father said, 
stifling a sigh ; ‘‘ but it can do no good to dwell 
on these things, daughter. An enemy of any 
kind does you more injury when he destroys your 
peace of mind, and causes you to harbor re- 
vengeful feelings, than he can possibly achieve 
in any other way. We must kee]) up our cour- 
age, and make the best of present circumstances, 
bad as they sometimes are. A change is bound 
to come.” 

Me wants more breakfuss,” Ralph broke in, 
suddenly, extending his empty milk-cup toward 
me, his chief servitor. I refilled it from the 
pitcher beside me, and as I absently crumbled 
bits of bread into it I sought enlightenment. 

I never quite understood, father, wliy Mr. 
Horton is so spiteful toward us.” 

“ It is easily understood, Leslie. He wants 
this homestead claim, and hopes to weary us into 
giving it up.” 

“He can find plenty of other claims,” I argued. 

“Yes; but not such as this. This is an up- 
per valley, as you know, and just above our 


I GO ON AN ERRAND 


17 


claim five mountain streams join the main 
river as the fingers of a hand join the palm, the 
main river being the palm. Every square foot 
of our claim can be irrigated, and it takes in 
about all of the valley that is worth taking — 
enough to control the water rights for all the 
land below us. That is the reason why Horton 
is trying so hard to dislodge us. He would like 
to be able to make the ranchmen on the lower 
ranches come to liis terms about the water.’’ 

‘‘ But the law regulates the water rights,” said 
Jessie. 

It is supposed to do so, and does it, after a 
fasliion, but no human laws have ever yet been 
able to satisfactorily regulate a mean man. It 
would be a great misfortune to the ranchmen 
below if Horton were to get a title to this jdace ; 
he likes to make people feel his authority, and 
one effective way of doing that would be to 
worry people about the water supply, just when 
they needed it most, of course. I feel now that 
our danger of losing the place is past. It has 
been a hard struggle to bear up against nearly 
2 


18 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


five years of such sly, petty persecutions. 
Horton is careful not to oppose us openly. 
AVhen he’s found out, as he is occasionally, it 
always appears that he has been careful to keeji 
within the letter of the law. Well, as Leslie 
says, we’ll get our title clear, and then the wind 
will be out of Mr. Horton’s sails. I’ve been 
afraid to make a move, or to do anything except 
curl down and study the homestead laws all this 
time. If I had come to an open rupture with 
him he might have gone down to the land office 
and told some story of his own invention to the 
agent that would injure me greatly, for land 
agents are only too ready to believe evil of land 
claimants, it seems to me. Now my notice for 
offering final proof is in one of the paj)ers ; it 
must be published three times, and the j)eriod 
of publication must not range over more than 
three months at the outside, so you see, at the 
farthest, if our proof is accepted, we shall have 
a deed to this jfiace within three months. I do 
not see how we can fail to get it ; we have com- 
plied with all the requirements.” 


I GO ON AN ERKANB 


19 


‘‘Yes/’ Jessie assented, gravely. “We have 
two cows, two horses, a cat, a dog, a clock, some 
chairs, some dishes, a table, a stove, and some 
poultry.” 

Father smiled, the slow, serious smile that had 
replaced his cheery laugh since mother’s death 
two years before. “You are well posted on 
homestead laws, daughter,” he said, rising from 
the table. “ Where’s my coat, Leslie, did you 
get it mended ?” 

For answer I took down a worn, light, gray 
coat from a nail behind the kitchen door. 

“ Look at that !” I said, pointing proudly to a 
very conspicuous patch on the elbow of one 
sleeve. An older seamstress would have felt, 
perhaps, that the patch asserted its existence 
almost too defiantly ; it seemed almost to vaunt 
itself, but conscious of tlie rectitude of my in- 
tentions, if not of my work, I raised my face, 
expectantly, awaiting the praise that I felt to be 
my due. I was not disappointed. Father held 
the garment up to the light and examined the 
mending with critical approval. 


20 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


That’s what I call a good job, my little 
girl,” he said heartily, but Jessie, glancing at 
the proof of my housewifely skill, as evidenced 
by the coat, laughed. 

‘‘ ‘A tear may be the accident of a moment,’ ” 
she quoted, “ ‘ but a patch is premeditated pov- 
erty.’ And such a patch ! You could see it a 
mile away. Really, Leslie, it looks like Jere- 
miah Porlock’s cattle brand.” 

I felt my face crimsoning with indignation, 
but was happily prevented from making the 
retort that sprang to my lips, as father mur- 
mured ruefully : 

“ Dear, dear, what a pity that Joe left the 
spade! It will just about spoil my whole fore- 
noon to be obliged to stop and bring it down. 
However, there’s no help for it.” 

Yes, there is, papa,” I cried, springing to my 
feet. ‘‘ I’ll go up with you and bring it back.” 

It was characteristic of father’s gentleness 
toward us his motherless young daughters, that he 
had not once thought of the possibility of either 
of us acting, in this instance, as his substitute. 


I GO ON AN ERRAND 


21 


“ It^s a long walk/’ lie objected, looking at 
me doubtfully. 

Long ! Why, papa, I’ve taken longer walks 
than that, lots of times. It isn’t above a mile 
and a half; I could run every stej) of the 
way !” 

“Me, too,” proclaimed Ralph, descending from 
liis high chair in such haste that he fell sprawl- 
ing on the floor. Disdaining, on this occasion, 
to weep for an accident that, under ordinary 
circumstances, would have opened the flood- 
gates of woe, he scrambled to his feet : “ Me 

do wiv ’oo, ’Essie!” A battered old hat of 
Joe’s was hanging on the wall, within reach of 
his chubby hand ; he snatched it down and 
set it quickly on his head, pulling down the 
wide brim until his brown curls and the upper 
part of his rosy little face were completely ex- 
tinguished. “ Me ready, ’Essie,” he said. He 
was a comical little figure. Papa took him 
in his arms and kissed him. Then he set him 
gently on his feet again; “You can’t go with 
sister to-day, my boy.” 


22 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


‘‘ ^Ess/^ Ralph declared, with unusual per- 
sistence, Me do 

‘‘ No,” father reiterated. He opened the door, 
and we slipi:>ed out, followed for some distance 
along the trail by the deserted youngster’s ear- 
splitting shrieks. Father halted once, looking 
irresolutely at me as a peculiarly heart-rending 
outburst came to our ears. I could easily carry 
him up there,” he said, with a somewhat sheep- 
ish look, but I suppose you couldn’t fetch him 
home ?” 

Come along, father,” I retorted, slipping 
my hand under his arm. ‘‘ Jessie will have 
Ralph consoled before you could get back to 
the house, and, when we started, you were in 
some doubt as to whether I could carry a spade 
home from the mine.” 

‘‘ That’s true,” father confessed. ‘‘ But hasn’t 
the boy got a pair of lungs, though ? I doubt 
if I was ever able to yell like that. I dare say 
it’s partly owing to the climate; it’s very 
healthy.” 


CHAPTER II 


THE WILL OF THE WATERS 

Crusoe was the generic name of the collec- 
tion of rough shanties that clustered about and 
among the various shaft-houses. Not all of the 
mines had attained to the dignity of shaft-houses 
and regular hours, many of them, indeed, being 
mere prospect-holes, but all were named, and a 
student of human nature might have accurately 
gauged the jiast experience or present hopeful- 
ness of their resj^ective owners by some of the 
curious freaks of nomenclature. 

The shaft-house of the Gray Eagle was the 
last but one at the upper extremity of the ravine 
along which Crusoe straggled. Father and I, 
hurrying past the cabins, had nearly reached it, 
when a loud call from the open doorway of one 
of the larger cabins brought us to a halt. 

‘‘ There’s old Joe !” father said, glancing at 
the individual who had shouted ; I was in 

23 


24 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


li02ies that I could slip past without his seeing 
me/' 

“ No such good luck as that," I said, with 
what I felt to be uncharitable impatience ; I 
almost believe that Joe sits up nights to watch 
for you. It's a shame, too, for him to try to 
work in the mines. Just look at him !" 

I've looked at him a good many times, 
Leslie, dear, but he would be in a ten times 
worse position if I were to tell him that I am 
old enough to take care of myself. Since the 
day I was born he has spent his life in watching 
over me." 

From all accounts that was strictly true. The 
white- wooled old negro who, in his shirt sleeves, 
now came limping down the pathway toward us, 
had once been a slave on grandfather Gordon's 
estate. When freedom came to all the slaves, 
old Joe — who was young Joe then — declined to 
accept of any liberty, or to follow any occupa- 
tion that might take him away from his master's 
oldest son, Ralph Gordon, our father. The 
negro's mission in life, as he understood it, 


THE WILL OF THE WATERS 


25 


was simply to keej) an eye on the young man, 
for the young man^s good. The flight of years 
did not lessen his sense of responsibility any 
more than it did his devotion, which was immeas- 
urable. But, curiously enough, he seemed to 
prefer, on the whole, not to reside with the object 
of his adoration. It was enough for him if he 
could but hover around in father’s vicinity, and 
this he did with such tireless persistency that in 
all the changes, the shifting scenes of his Western 
life, the one thing that father owned to being 
absolutely sure of was, that no matter where he 
went, or how quietly, the place that knew him 
presently became familiar also with the white 
wool and shambling flgure of old Joe. 

‘‘ I ’clar ter goodness !” groaned Joe, reaching 
us at last, and hobbling on beside us, I didn’ 
’low fur t’ wuck ter-day ; my rheumatiz is tuck 
dat bad !” 

Don’t work, then, Joe ; the mine is as wet as 
a sponge. You’ll be the worse to-morrow for 
going into it,” remonstrated father, kindly. 

^‘No; I reckons I’s wuck ef yo’ does; hit 


26 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


ain’ out o’ place, noway, fur me ter crope inter 
a hole like dat ; but w’at fur yo’ keep w’alin’ 
at wuck in de mine ? ’Pears like a gen’le- 
man might fin’ more fitten’ kine o’ wuck dan 
dat.” 

The kind of work neither makes nor un- 
makes one, Joe,” returned father, good-hu- 
moredly ; but I’m not going to do this sort of 
work much longer. I’m calculating on opening 
up the ranch in fine shape, with your helj), when 
I get the title to it.” 

‘‘ W’en yo’ ’low fur ter git dat titull ?” 

‘^In about three months. You’ll have to 
come and live with us then, Joe, so as to be on 
hand to help us.” 

‘‘Yes,” the old man assented, with unex- 
pected readiness, “ I ’spect I shall. I’se mighty 
good farmer, yo’ knows, Mas’r Ealjdi. Hit 
goin’ take nigh a week ter tell all dat I kiiow^s 
erhout raisin’ oh watermillions an’ goobers. Yo’ 
’low dat goobers grow in dish yer kentry, Mas’r 
Ealph ?” 

“Yes, indeed. Why not?” father returned. 


THE WILL OF THE WATERS 27 

cheerily, evidently glad of old Joe’s implied 
willingness to take up liis abode with us. 

We j^resently entered the shaft-house. Eiit- 
ledge, the mine sui^erintendent, was standing by 
the shaft, and the hoisting-cage, with its first 
load of ore from the dump below, was moving 
slowly upward. 

You’re late,” was his greeting. 

A trifie late,” father returned, pleasantly, 
adding, you can dock my day’s wages for it if 
you like.” 

I know that without you telling me, but I 
shouldn’t like,” E-utledge said, crossly. We all 
knew him slightly, and I had thought him a 
pleasant young gentleman, but he was looking 
sullen to-day, almost angry, it seemed to me. 
We stood there waiting, and tlie cage had 
reached the surface and automatically dumped 
its load before Rutledge spoke again. 

I thought you weren’t coming, in spite of 
your promise,” he then said, looking toward 
father. No one could have blamed you if you 
had shown the white feather — ” 


28 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


‘‘Say, yo’ lieali me!"’ broke in old Joe, sud- 
denly and savagely, liis voice quivering with 
indignation. “Ole Gunnel Gordon’s son ain’ 
one o’ de kine w’at done breaks promises, ner 
yit w’at’s a-sliowin’ w’ite fedders. Ef yo’s 
lookin’ fer dat kine of a man, git a lookin’-glass 
an’ study de face dat yo’ sees in hit, den maybe 
yo’ fine ’im !” 

Rutledge smiled, although he still scowled 
disapproval. 

“ That’s all right, Joe ; there are no cowards 
around the Gray Eagle shaft-house, but I 
couldn’t blame any one for keeping out of the 
mine to-day — not but what it’s safe enough, as 
far as I can see — I’ve just been down.” 

For an instant his words startled and thrilled 
me. Could it be that there was so much dan- 
ger in working in the mine then ? I glanced 
at father. He was just stepping into the cage, 
and his face was as serene as if Rutledge’s dis- 
course had been of some possible disturbance in 
the moon. The look of displeasure on Rut- 
ledge’s face deepened as I caught hold of one 


THE WILL OF THE WATERS 


29 


of the ropes and swung myself lightly into the 
cage, following father and Joe. Delaying the 
signal for descent, Rutledge said : 

‘‘ While it may be safe enough down there, it 
isn^t exactly like a lady’s j)arlor, Gordon — not 
to-day, anyway,” 

Oh, Leslie is just going down on an errand,” 
father explained. But, Leslie, perhaps you 
had better wait here and let me send the spade 
up to yon.” 

‘‘ And make yon walk from your tunnel clear 
back to the hoisting cage again !” I remon- 
strated. ‘‘ Why, Mr. Rutledge, I’ve been down 
lots of times, you know, and I’m not at all 
afraid.” 

The superintendent had looked relieved when 
he heard that my stay in the mine was likely to 
be a short one. I wondered, inconsequently, as 
the cage started on its downward passage, if he 
liad thought that I was going down on a tour 
of inspection. There would have been nothing 
for him to fear from any one’s inspection ; he 
was a good superintendent. “ Don’t stay long. 


30 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


Miss Leslie/^ he called down after us. I could 
no longer see his face, but his voice sounded 
anxious, and father remarked : 

‘‘ Rutledge seems quite uneasy, somehow.” 

“ Dese yer minin’ bosses, dey knows dey busi- 
ness,” muttered old Joe. “ Dey knows dat de 
rheumatiz hit lays in wait, like a wile beas’ 
scentin’ hits prey. Spect’s Mas’r Rutledge he 
hate fur ter see a spry young gal like Miss Les- 
lie git all crippled up, same’s a ole lame nigger.” 

“ Yes ; it must be that he feared Leslie would 
get the rheumatism,” father said, in a lighter 
tone. Old Joe’s explanations and reasons for 
things were always a source of unfailing delight 
to him. The cage reached the bottom of the 
shaft and we stepped out. By the light that 
was always burning at the tunnel’s mouth father 
and Joe each selected a miner’s lamp from the 
stock in a corner, and, as father was lighting his, 
he said: ‘‘You had better carry a lamp, too, 
Leslie.” I picked one up while father slipjDed 
the bar of his under his cap band. Then he 
glanced at my big hat. “You’ll have to carry 


THE WILL OP THE WATERS 


31 


yours in your hand, child ; there's no room for 
so small a thing as a miner’s lamp on that great 
island of straw that you call a shade hat.” 

The Gray Eagle was a quartz gold mine. 
Tunnels drifted this way and that, wherever 
deposits of the elusive metal led them ; some- 
times they even made turns so sharp as to 
almost double back on themselves. I was glad 
to see that the point where father and Joe halted, 
at last, to pick up the tools that they had thrown 
down when they quit work in the mine, was 
within sight of the twinkling yellow star that 
marked the location of the hoisting cage. The 
place seemed less eerie somehow, with this means 
of escajie signaled in the darkness. I had been, 
as I told Mr. E-utledge, in the mines a good 
many times, but never had its darkness seemed 
so impenetrable, so encroaching, as on this morn- 
ing. 

It seems to me that our lamps don’t give so 
much light as usual, or else what they do give does 
not go so far,” I remarked to father as I lingered 
beside him a few moments, watching him work. 


32 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


He was using a drill on the face of the rock wall 
in front of him. He suspended operations now 
to say : ‘‘ I noticed that myself. The air is 
thick and damp ; the light is lost much as it 
is in a fog.’’ Then he called my attention to 
an object lying on the ground at his feet. 
‘‘ There’s the spade ; I guess you’d better be 
going back with it, dear ; Reynolds will be 
needing it.” 

Accordingly, with the spade in one hand and 
the lamp in the other, I started to retrace my 
steps to the hoisting cage. The sound of the 
drill that father was now plying vigorously fol- 
lowed me, becoming muffled, rather than fainter 
in the distance as I j)i*oceeded. From the 
various tunnels, branching off to the right and 
left, came the sound of other drills, and, occa- 
sionally, the plaintive hee-haw ” of one of the 
half-dozen or more little Andalusian mules used 
in hauling the loaded cars to and from the ore 
dumps near the hoisting cage. With all these 
sounds I was more or less familiar, but to-day, 
underneath them all, it seemed to me that there 


THE WILL OP THE WATERS 


83 


were others, myriads of them. To my lively 
young fancy the silence teemed with mysterious 
noises ; low groans and sighing whispers that 
wandered bodiless through dark tunnels, drip- 
ping with a soft, unusual ooze. Knowing that 
Reynolds was in a hurry for the spade I 
hastened along, listening and speculating, until 
coming opposite one of the side extensions 
I was suddenly taken with the whim to see if 
its walls were as damp as those of the tunnel 
that I was then standing in. I turned into it 
accordingly, but stopped doubtfully after a few 
yards. Holding the lamp aloft I looked inquir- 
ingly along the walls. Damp ! I understood 
now why my father wore a coat, a circumstance 
that had already impressed itself upon my mind 
as being very unusual among these underground 
workers. The water was almost running down 
the sides of the rocky tunnel, and the light of 
my lamp was reflected back at me in a thousaud 
sliding, mischievous drops. 

‘‘ Where does it all come from ?” I thought, 
laying my hand on the face of the rock before 
3 


34 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


which I stood. My hand had touched it for a 
single heart-beat, no more, when I felt the color 
go out of my face, leaving me with wide, staring 
eyes, while I stood trembling and ghastly white 
in the breathless gloom. Like one suddenly 
bereft of all power of speech or motion I stared 
mutely at the black wall before me. I had felt 
the rock move ! 

Standing there in that awful darkness, hun- 
dreds of feet underground, I understood what had 
haj^pened, what was happening, and, dumb with 
the horror of that awful knowledge, stood mo- 
tionless. All the stories that I had ever heard 
or read of sudden irruptions of water in mines, 
of dreadful cavings-in, flashed into my mind, 
and then, breaking the paralyzing trance of ter- 
ror, I turned and ran toward the main tunnel. 
I tried to utter a warning shout as I ran, but my 
stiffened lips gave forth no sound. Happily, as 
I reached the main tunnel, the light at the foot 
of the shaft was in direct range with my vision, 
and between the sliaft and myself I plainly saw 
a man hastening toward it. He was wearing a 


THE WILL OF THE WATERS 


35 


light gray coat. A quick glance toward the 
spot where I had left father and Joe showed 
nothing but darkness. They had both left. 
The hoisting cage was down, and, as I raced to- 
ward it, the man in the gray coat scrambled in. 
Even in my terror and excitement I was con- 
scious of an unreasonable, desolate sense of de- 
sertion when I saw that. Yet, underneath it 
all a lingering fragment of common sense told 
me that father would believe me, by this, safe 
above ; he had told me to go — and I had not 
obeyed him. 

Behind me, as I ran, arose a shrill and terri- 
ble chorus, a crashing of timbers, yells and 
shrieks of men, the terrific braying of the An- 
dalusian mules, and above all, a new sound; 
the mighty voice, the swelling roar of imprisoned 
waters taking possession of the channels that 
man had inadvertently prepared for them. I 
reached the hoisting cage so nearly too late that 
it had already started on its upward journey, 
when, seeing me, one of its occupants reached 
down, caught both my upstretched hands and 


36 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


swung me up to a j^lace by liis side. It chanced, 
providentially, that the cage was at the bottom 
of the shaft when the inrush of waters came, 
and it had been held there for a brief, danger- 
ous moment while the men nearest the shaft fled 
to its protection. It rose slowly upward, not too 
soon, for in an incredibly short time an inky 
flood rolled beneath it; rolled beneath, but 
seemed to keep pace with it as it arose. The 
water was coming up the shaft. 


CHAPTER III 


AT THE MOUTH OF THE SHAFT 

Rutledge was standing by tlie windlass as 
the cage drew slowly up into the light. The 
men sprang out, not forgetting to lift me out 
with them, and the superintendent craned his 
neck, looking down into the black hole from 
which we had ascended. Keep back !” he 
shouted, as some of the men crowded about him. 
‘‘ Keep back ; the water is coming up the shaft. 
We’ll soon have a spouting geyser, at this rate. 
How many of you are there?” He glanced 
over the group and answered his own question, 
in an awed voice : “ Seven — and the girl — God 
help us ! Only seven !” 

I had been so blinded by the fierce white 
glare of sunlight, following on the darkness of 
the shaft, and so dazed by the awful nature of 
the calamity that had befallen us that at first I 
comprehended almost nothing. The events of 

37 


38 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


the day recorded themselves automatically upon 
my mind, to be clearly recalled afterward. In 
a numb, dazed way I saw a man in a light gray 
coat creep stiffly from the cage, last of all, and, 
as he staggered away up the dump, I took a 
step toward him, looked in his face, and recoiled 
with a wild, heart-broken cry. 

The wearer of the coat was old Joe. Facing 
around, I looked on the rescued men, my heart 
beginning to beat in slow, suffocating throbs — 
my father was not among them. 

For a moment I was quite beside myself. 
Like one gone suddenly mad, I sprang at the 
negro, and, seizing his arm, shook it furiously, 
crying : 

“ Father, father — where is my father ? What 
have you done with my father ?” 

The old man began to whimper, ‘‘I ain’ done 
nuttin’ ! I wish^t I had ! I wish^t hit was me 
dat done gone to respec’ dat ole Watkin’s 
Lateral, den Ikl ’a’ been drownded, an’ he 
wouldn’t !” 

Watkin’s Lateral ?” echoed one of the men 


AT THE MOUTH OF THE SHAFT 


39 


who had so narrowly escaped. “ Was Gordon 
in there ?” That’s where the water hurst 
through first. I thought that some one might 
have gone in there to test the walls, and they’d 
given way.” 

‘‘ You are probably right, Johnson. Not but 
what the walls would have caved in, just the 
same, whether they were struck or not.” 

Little heed as I paid, at the moment, to what 
was going on or being said, yet it all impressed 
itself upon my mind, to be recalled afterward, 
and afterward I knew that this last observation 
of Mr. Rutledge’s was intended to exonerate 
father from any charge of carelessness in going 
into that place at just that time. But every em- 
ployee of the Gray Eagle knew that Watkin’s 
Lateral — a long, diagonal passage, with which 
the main tunnel was connected by a number of 
side extensions — was a treacherous place in 
which to work at all times, and must, of neces- 
sity, have been trebly so this morning. Loosing 
my frenzied hold of old Joe, I crouched to the 
ground, while Joe sank down on the dump. 


40 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


covering liis face with his gnarled old hands. 
‘‘ He made me tuck an^ 

an’ tole me fur t’ start fur home ; I was dat 
racked wid de misery in my hack !” he moaned. 

The men were again clustering about the 
shaft. I got U23 and went and stood beside 
them. A hollow roar came U23 from the dei^ths 
into which we gazed. The black water had 
risen, and risen, until, touched by a ray of sun- 
light, it threw back at us a sinister, mocking 
gleam, as the eye of a demon might. And 
father was down there in that black grave ! 
That was my one coherent thought as, after the 
first wild look, I suddenly gras 2 ied one of the 
ropes of the cage that still swung above the 
shaft’s mouth, and swung myself aboard. My 
reckless hand was on the starting lever when Mr. 
Rutledge, with a cry, and a spring as quick as my 
own had been, landed beside me. He snatched 
my hand from the lever. ‘‘ Are you mad ?” he 
asked, sternly, “ What are you going to do ?” 

I am going down to my father ; I am going 
to bring him iq^ I cried wildly. 


AT THE MOUTH OF THE SHAFT 


41 


As though tlie words had held a charm to 
break the spell of silence, they were followed by 
a babel of groans, of outcries and entreaties. It 
seemed that all the surface population of Crusoe 
were already on the spot ; all, and especially the 
women, were wild to go to the rescue of the 
doomed men below. Doomed ! Ah, they were 
j^ast that now — all of them — all ! It was this 
solemn thought that suddenly calmed me, that 
made me yield quietly to Rutledge’s guiding 
hand as he drew me from the cage. There are 
men here,” he said. Stand back, all of you 
women.” He took his place in the cage again ; 
then he looked around on the assembled 
men. 

Dick,” he said, signalling out a square-built 
Scotch miner, stand beside the hoist, and do 
exactly as I tell you.” 

“ I wull that !” returned the miner, taking 
the station indicated. 

I’m going down as far as the water will 
allow,” Rutledge explained. Wlio comes with 
me?” A dozen men volunteered instantly. 


42 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


E-utleclge selected two who stepped into the 
cage beside him. 

“ There may be fire-damp — gas/’ the Scotch- 
man said, warningly. 

I know ; there is, probably ; I’ll look out 
for that. Lower away !” Lutledge had lighted 
one of the miner’s candles which was suspended 
by a cord from a crack in the bottom of the 
cage. We above leaned over that dreadful well 
and watched the tiny flicker of light as the cage 
swung down and down toward the sinister eye 
that came steadily up as it went down. The 
tiny flame burned bravely for a space, then it 
went out as suddenly as if snuffed out by in- 
visible fingers while the water below moved and 
sjmrkled as it might have done if the owner of 
the demoniac eye had laughed. “ Choke damp !” 
said the Scotch miner succinctly, and began hoist- 
ing up. 

I was crouching on the ground with my face 
hidden on Joe’s shoulder when the cage came 
up again. The men sprang out silently, and the 
hush on the waiting throng seemed to deepen. 


AT THE MOUTH OF THE SHAFT 43 

“We will set the j)umps at work as soon as it 
can be done ; that is the only thing left for us 
to do/’ I heard E-utledge say, and his voice 
sounded far away to my reeling senses as it 
might have sounded had I heard it in some 
dreadful vision of the night. Then he came 
and knelt down beside me ; he took my hands 
in a close grasp. “ Go home, Leslie,” he said, 
“ go home and do not come back. We will do 
all that can be done.” 

Not many hours thereafter the pumps were at 
work, lifting the water out of the mine — a Her- 
culean task, but not so long a one, or so hope- 
less, as had been anticipated by many. Soon 
fresh mounds of earth began to appear in the 
lonely little hillside cemetery ; mounds beneath 
which the rescued bodies of the drowned miners 
were reverently laid. Among them was one 
where father lay peacefully sleeping by mother’s 
side, and leaving him there at rest, we turned 
sadly away to take up again the dreary routine 
of our every-day life. 


CHAPTER IV 


A PLOT FOILED 

It was a full month after the mine accident, 
and things had settled back as nearly into the 
old routine as was possible with the head of the 
household gone. I doubt if Jessie and I could 
have carried the burden of responsibility that 
now fell upon our unaccustomed shoulders had 
it not been for Joe. The day after fa therms 
funeral he walked quietly into the kitchen with 
the announcement : 

I’se come ter stay, chillen ! Whar yo’ 
gwine want me ter drap dis bundle ?” 

The bundle was^done up in a handkerchief — 
not a large one at that — and it contained all of 
Joe’s worldly possessions. Jessie gave him tlie 
little bed-room off the kitchen, and there Joe 
established himself, to our great satisfaction. 
He was not less reticent than usual, but there 
was immense comfort to us, even in Joe’s silence. 
44 


A PLOT FOILED 


45 


The only explanation that he ever gave as to his 
intentions was contained in the brief declaration : 

‘‘Yo’s no ’casion fur t’ worry yoWves no 
mo’, chillen ; I’se come ter tek holt.” 

And take hold he did. Early and late the 
faithful black hands were toiling for the chil- 
dren of the man whom he had so devotedly loved. 

On this particular morning Jessie and I wei’e 
seated in the kitchen busily employed in doing 
some much-needed mending, when I dropped 
my work and said to Jessie : I believe some- 
thing is taking the chickens, Jessie.” 

Jessie glanced at the garment that I had let 
fall, a torn little dress of Ralph’s. Do you ?” 
she said. 

‘‘ Yes ; I’m sure there are not so many as 
there should be.” 

‘‘ Don’t you count them every night ?” 

“Yes, I do; but they should be counted 
oftener. At mid-day, too, I should say.” I 
submitted this proposition deferentially, but 
with a covert glance at the clock ; it was nearly 
twelve, and I did so dislike mending. 


46 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


‘‘ Very well/’ Jessie said, count them a dozen 
times a day if you think best, of course.” 

The elation with which I arose to comply 
with this generous permission was tempered 
somewhat by a little haunting sense of mean- 
ness. “Still,” I reasoned, “when one’s home 
depends on such things as cats, dogs, and chick- 
ens, one cannot take account of stock too often. 
Besides, Jessie likes to mend, at least I’ve never 
heard her say she does not, but I have heard her 
say that she doesn’t like to tend poultry.” 

When I re-entered the house, after conscien- 
tiously enumerating every pair of yellow legs 
on the place, and finding, somewhat to my 
chagrin, that the tally was the same as that of 
the j)revious evening, I found Jessie sitting at 
the table with her face hidden in her hands. 
Afraid that she was crying I at first pretended 
not fo notice. We had more than enough 
cause for tears. I picked up the discarded little 
dress and, in a spasm of repentance, murmured 
ostensibly to Ealph, who was playing near the 
table, but really for Jessie’s benefit : “ Sister is 


A PLOT FOILED 


47 


going to mend the pretty blouse that you tore 
on the oak bush after she gets this dress 
done/’ 

‘‘ ’En w’en oo’ puts it on me, me do in ’e oak 
bush an’ tear it adain,” the child declared, cheer- 
fully. 

‘‘ You naughty boy !” 

“ ’Es ; me notty boy,” with which announce- 
ment he went and leaned against Jessie’s knees. 
Jessie looked up; she was not crying, but her 
face was haggard with pain. 

‘‘ I’ve got a dreadful toothache,” she said, and 
then I remembered that she had been very rest- 
less during the night. ‘‘ I’m afraid I shall know 
no peace until it is out,” Jessie went on, “and 
it’s half a day’s journey to a dentist.” 

“ And Joe has taken both the horses to go up 
into the Jerusalem settlement after that seed- 
corn, and he can’t get back before to-morrow 
night !” I exclaimed, in consternation. As I 
sat looking at her with eyes more tearful than 
her own there came to our ears the welcome 
sound of wheels, and a wagon stopped at the 


48 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


gate. I sprang up and ran to the door, with 
some faint hope, for the moment, that Joe 
had returned. It was not Joe who was sitting 
immovable on the seat of the light wagon that 
was drawn up before the gate, but my astonish- 
ment would not have been so great if it had 
been. The small, bronzed-faced, wiry individual 
wlio sat still, calmly returning my inquiring 
gaze was none other than our persevering en- 
emy, Mr. Jacob Horton. I did not fancy our 
caller, but thinking that he would not have 
called if he had not some reason for so doing, 
I walked out and down the path toward him, 
saying, “ Good morning, Mr. Horton.” 

‘‘ Mornin’, Miss Leslie. Folks all well ?” 

Not very well ; at least, Jessie isn^t. She’s 
got a dreadful toothache.” 

‘‘ Toothache, eh ? That’s bad. Nothin’ like 
yankin’ out fur an achin’ tooth. That’s my ex- 
perience, and you may pass it along to Miss Jes- 
sie for what it’s worth.” 

‘‘ I don’t know what good it will do her if I 
do,” I replied, rather irritably, for Jessie was 


A PLOT FOILED 


49 


sobbing now, and the sound hurt me almost as 
mucli as a jdiysical pain could Lave done. 

Why, the good it will do is that that old 
nigger of yours — Joe, you call him — will tackle 
up, she’ll tie on her bunnet, hop into the wagon, 
and away for Dr. Green’s office in Antonita, 
and she’ll set as still as a mouse while the doc- 
tor yanks out that tooth ; that’s the good it’ll 
do.” 

“ Yes, that might all be if Joe wasn’t away 
with the team.” 

“Wal’, that does rather spoil my program. 
Goin’ to be gone all day, is he ?” 

“Yes; maybe for two or three days. He’s 
gone up to the Archer settlement on the Jeru- 
salem trail.” 

“ Oh, has he ? Wal’, now !” 

Mr. Horton had been sitting all this time 
with the reins in one hand, his Latin the other. 
He now replaced the hat on his head and stood 
up. He remained standing so, motionless, for 
more than a minute, gazing steadfastly at his 
horses’ ears, while his brow puckered and his 

4 


50 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


small eyes narrowed like those of a person in 
deep thought. Finally he exclaimed : 

‘‘Say, I tell you how we’ll fix it. You all 
get in here with me and come over to my house. 
Maria, she’ll be sure to think of something to 
ease that tooth the minute she claps eyes on ye ; 
then, in the mornin’, she or I’ll take ye over to 
the doctor’s office, and bring ye home afterward. 
Hey, what do you say. Miss Jessie ?” for Jessie 
had by this time come out of the gate, with 
E-alpli clinging to her hand. 

Jessie, the pain of her aching tooth dulled for 
the moment by sheer amazement, said that he 
was very kind. She said it almost timidly. We 
had had so little reason hitherto to look for 
any neighborly kindness at Mr. Horton’s 
hands. 

“Then ye’ll go?” Mr. Horton insisted. 

Jessie looked inquiringly at me. Her face 
was swollen and her eyes red with crying. 

“Yes, Jessie, do go. There’s no knowing 
when Joe will be back, and you — ” 

“ Why, you’d better all come,” Mr. Horton 


A PLOT FOILED 


51 


interposed again. There’s two seats in the 
wagon — plenty of room. Here, where’s the 
little shaver’s hat ? Get your hat and climb in 
here, youngster.” 

Ralph, who was enterprising and fearless, 
obeyed without protest. Peremptorily declin- 
ing Mr. Horton’s invitation to sit with him, he 
took his station on the back seat, and from that 
vantage urged his sisters to make haste. 

‘‘ Come, ’Essie, us yeady.” 

Jessie ran in and got her hat, tossed her old 
coat over her shoulders without stopping to put 
her arms in the sleeves, and, by aid of the 
wheel, mounted to the seat beside Ralph. I, 
too, had put on my liat, but waited to secure the 
windows, and then to get the door-key. Mr. 
Horton, sitting silent on the front seat, observed 
my proceedings with interest ; ‘‘ You’re awful 
careful, ain’t ye?” he said, at length, and, in 
spite of his friendliness, it seemed to my sensi- 
tive fancy that there was a sneer in his voice. 
However, that did not greatly trouble me, for, 
from my slight speaking acquaintance with him 


52 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


before this, I had come to believe that he never 
spoke without one, so I replied, cheerfully : 

‘‘ Yes ; I guess I am careful enough.’’ 

I had locked the door, and was approaching 
the wagon when Mr. Horton asked : 

‘‘Where’s your dog — you’ve got one, ain’t ye?” 

“ Guard ? Yes, he’s with Joe. Why ?” 

I stopped short as I suddenly realized what 
Joe’s absence for the night meant. 

“ Why, I can’t go, Jessie ; I shall have to 
milk both the cows to-night !” 

“ Oh, that’s true !” groaned Jessie. She 
started up. 

“ I’m sorry we have detained you at all, Mr. 
Horton, but Leslie can’t stay here alone all 
night, and the cows must be milked. Come, 
Ralph, we must get out.” 

As Ralph slid obediently off his seat, Mr. 
Horton laid a detaining hand on his arm. Ralph 
wriggled himself loose, looking defiant. 

“ Wait !” Mr. Horton urged. “ It’s too bad 
for you to have to keep on sufferin’ all night. 
Miss Jessie, when you might be helped.” 


A PLOT FOILED 


53 


Oh, I know it !” Jessie moaned, sinking 
back on the seat and covering her face with her 
hands. 

‘‘ IVe never had the toothache myself, but I 
know it must be dreadful. By the way, where 
are the cows?” Mr. Horton stood up and 
looked around as if he might spy them in the 
tree- tops or anywhere. ‘‘ I dohio — I wisht’ 
’twas so I could spend the time — ” he muttered 
reflectively. Then, suddenly : How long will 
it take ye to milk ’em ? I might wait.” 

‘‘ Oh, no ! No indeed ! I couldn’t think of 
asking you to do that on my account !” I ex- 
claimed, feeling very grateful, nevertheless, for 
the interest he displayed. “The cows haven’t 
come up yet ; besides, it would do no good to 
milk them now, at noon, for this evening,” I 
explained, although Mr. Horton, being a cattle 
man, should have known that without my tell- 
ing him. 

“ I’ve thought what I can do,” I said, after a 
moment. “You and Kalph go with Mr. 
Horton, Jessie, and after the chores are done 


54 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


this evening I’ll slip over to Crusoe to Mrs. 
Eiley’s.” Mrs. Eiley being the kindly Irish- 
woman with whom old Joe usually boarded 
when working in the mines. 

‘‘That’s a good j)lan,” Jessie said. “I 
couldn’t bear to leave you here alone all night.” 

Mr. Horton had seemed considerably non- 
jilussed when he found that I was not coming 
with him ; he now brightened visibly, remark- 
ing: “Yes, you can do that; lonesome work 
for a young gal stayin’ alone all night ; no tellin’ 
what might haj)pen,” and then, with that 
curious fatality that so often induces people to 
say exactly the wrong thing for their purpose, 
he added : “ I should a’ thought your nigger 
would a’ left the dog here to purtect you young 
women whilst he was gone. But niggers is al- 
ways thoughtless, and yourn is no exception.” 

Inwardly resenting both the tone and words, 
I instantly resolved, in a spirit of loyalty to 
Joe, to remain where I was that night. Why 
should I not, indeed ? I had never spent a night 
alone in my life, but I would let Mr. Horton 


A PLOT FOILED 


know that I was not afraid to do it — I would 
let him know afterward — just at resent I 
nodded my head in apparent acquiscence with 
his views, and bidding good-by to the trio, 
walked away toward the corral, intent on be- 
guiling them into the belief, should they look 
back, that I was anxiously awaiting the arrival 
of the cows in order that I might the sooner get 
away myself. In the silence that followed upon 
the last faint rumble of their disappearing 
wheels I thought of something else. Something 
that made m}^ blood run cold with a sickening 
apprehension of the calamity that had so nearly 
befallen us. A moment more and, the numb fit 
of terror passed, I was dancing down the corral 
path, saying jubilantly to myself: ‘^Oh, ho, 
Mr. Horton ! But it isn’t left alone ! The 
homestead isn’t left alone. I’m here, I’m here !” 

Jessie was half crazed with pain, no wonder 
that she had forgotten, but why should it have 
escaped my mind, until almost too late, that, 
under the homestead laws, the laws by which 
we hoped to obtain a title to this beautiful valley 


56 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


ranch, the house must not be left untenanted for 
a single night, until the deed to it was in the 
claimant’s possession. We had heard so much 
about the homestead laws from poor father that 
we accounted ourselves quite able to comply with 
them all — yet — how nearly we had come to 
leaving the house vacant that night ! 

And it was Mr. Horton, of all others, who 
had urged us to do so, and he understood the 
homestead laws ; no one better. 

The thought of our narrow escape was still 
with me when, towards evening, I heard the 
tinkle of old Cleo’s bell, coming musically down 
the mountain side, and went out to the corral to 
let down the bars. After all,” I thought, look- 
ing back at the house as I stood waiting by the 
bars, “ it might not have been a complete success 
for Mr. Horton if he had got us all away from 
home for the night. The house and furniture 
would be pretty good proof to the land agent of 
the honesty of our intentions.” 


CHAPTER V 


AN EXCITING EXPEKIENCE 

I HAD never been left entirely without human 
companionship before, not even for a night, and 
I soon began to wonder at the amount of lone- 
liness that can be compressed into a few hours. 
Before the afternoon was half spent I was men- 
tally reviewing the history of Robinson Crusoe, 
and was feeling an intense sympathy for that 
resourceful castaway. 

I lingered over my evening tasks, and, sooner 
than seemed possible, dusk came and night was 
at hand, so at last I reluctantly closed and made 
fast the kitchen door. Reluctantly, for to- 
night this common and necessary precaution 
seemed, somehow, to cut me adrift from all 
chance of human aid, and by this time my mind 
was running on wild tales of bandits, of lonely 
camps, and the far sweep of the cattle ranges 
where, in darkened hollow or at the foot of 

57 


58 TWO WYOMING GIKLS 

shadowy buttes, great gray wolves lay in wait 
for their midnight i)rey, indifferent as to whether 
the prey consisted of cattle or cattleman. 

Still, I am sure that I was not really cow- 
ardly ; it was only the unusual situation that set 
me thinking of these things. Father’s light 
rifle hung in its accustomed place over the 
kitchen fireplace, and, as a last precaution, I took 
it down, and, after ascertaining that it was prop- 
erly loaded, put it near the head of the bed, 
within reach of my hand. To be expert with 
firearms is almost a matter of course for girls 
on Western ranches, and I was an unusually 
good marksman. As it would, to my fancy, but 
intensify the emptiness and loneliness of the 
house if I were to light a lamp, ^"decided to go 
straight to bed without a light, and, if possi- 
ble, forget my troubles in sleep. But I had 
hardly reached this sensible conclusion wlien I 
became convinced that I was thirsty. It is not 
in the least probable that I should have even 
thought of needing a drink if it had not sud- 
denly occurred to me that there was no water in 


AN EXCITING EXPERIENCE 


59 


the house. I had used it all, and liad neglected 
to fill the pail again. There is no surer pro- 
vocative of thirst than the knowledge that there 
is no water to be had, and, as I thought the 
matter over, my lips grew dry and my throat 
parched. It was unendurable. In desperation 
I slipped on the shoes that I had just taken off, 
and, taking the empty pail from the kitche^ 
sink, unlocked the door and made a hur- 
ried trip to the s|)ring, a few rods west of the 
house. 

Returning with a brimming pailful, and dis- 
daining to acknowledge, even to myself, that 
my knees were shaking, I set the 2:)ail on a 
chair by the bed-room window. I was deter- 
mined to have water close at hand, in case my 
thirst became torturing during the night. The 
cat was mewing jilaintively on the kitchen door- 
step. I re-opened the door and let her in, then, 
re-locked the door and, disrobing, crept quickly 
into bed. Curled down snugly under the 
blankets I was almost dozing when a sudden 
recollection caused me to laugh softly to myself, 


60 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


there in the darkness. In spite of my terrible 
thirst I had entirely forgotten to take a drink 
after the water was at hand. I’ll get up after 
a while if I find that I can’t get along without 
it,” I told myself, sleepily, and with the sense 
of amusement still uj)on me, I was far away 
into dreamland. 

• I suppose that very few people have escaped 
the unpleasant, breathless sensation of awaken- 
ing suddenly and completely under the spell of 
some unknown challenge, a warning of some im- 
pending danger j)assed by the alert mind to the 
slumbering senses of the body. I had slept far 
into the night when I awoke, seemingly without 
cause, to find myself sitting upright in bed, 
listening intently. For a moment I heard 
nothing but the soft padded foot-fall of the cat 
as, stealing from her j)lace on the foot of the bed, 
she moved restlessly about the room. ‘‘ It must 
have been her springing off the bed that awoke 
me,” I thought, nestling back into the jnllows 
again. I closed my eyes, but opened them 
quickly as a soft rustling outside of, and almost 


AN EXCITING EXPERIENCE 


61 


directly uiiderneatli the bed-room window, came 
to my ears. 

The window-shade was pulled down, but it 
was hung several inches below the top of the 
window, which had been left open for ventila- 
tion. Through this uncurtained space the 
moonlight streamed into the room ; by its light 
I saw the cat retreating into a corner farthest 
from the window, her tail swelled out like that 
of a fox, her hair bristling, and her yellow eyes 
glaring vindictively. She disliked strangers, 
and commonly resented their presence in just 
this manner. I wondered, as my eyes followed 
the cat\s movements with growing apprehension, 
if she would act this way because of the vicinity 
of any large prowling animal. I was sure now, 
as I crouched tremblingly under the blankets, 
that the increasing noise that I heard was not 
made by any harmless midnight prowler. If it 
had been, the cat, being a great hunter, would 
have shown an eager desire to get outside the 
window, instead of away from it. Accustomed 
to the knowledge that there were wild animals 


62 TWO WYOMING GIRLS 

in plenty up on the mountain slopes and in the 
encircling forests above us, and having abundant 
reason to know that they often made stealthy 
visits to the valley settlements at night, I soon 
reasoned myself into quietude. Whatever the 
beast might be, I was in no personal danger ; 
the cows were safe in the high- walled corral, and 
the poultry-house securely locked. Reassured, 
as I recalled these facts, I did not get up to 
make any investigation as to the cause of the 
noise. If it’s a bear, it isn’t mine,” I told 
myself, drowsily ; as Joe says, ‘ I ain’ los’ no 
bear ’roun’ yer.’ ” 

I was half asleep again when a curious sensa- 
tion, as of a bright light playing over my closed 
eyelids caused me to open them suddenly. Then 
I bounded out of bed, uttering a scream that 
might, I should think, have been heard a mile. 
A broad sheet of yellow flame was streaming up 
beside the house and over the uncurtained 
window space. Obeying an imj)ulse as irre- 
sponsible as the one that had caused that useless 
scream, I seized the loaded rifle at my bedside. 


AN EXCITING EXPERIENCE 


63 


and sent a bullet whistling and crashing tlirougli 
the window panes. The impression that some 
prowling wild animal was about was probably 
still strong upon me, and, in any case, the shot 
was not without effect. My shriek and the report 
of the rifle rang out almost at the same instant. 
Following them came a cry, a smothered oath, 
and the sound of running footsteps. Throwing 
down the yet smoking gun, I ran to the window, 
tore down the obstructing shade with one sweep 
of my impatient hand, and leaned forward, 
scanning the hillside. The flames reached to- 
ward me greedily through the opening that my 
bullet had made, but, although their hot breath 
half blinded me, I saw a man running swiftly 
for the shelter of the hillside j^ines. I glanced 
toward the rifle — I was a good shot, then. 
‘‘Thou shalt not kill,” I said aloud, but it had 
occurred to me also, that the gun was not loaded. 
An instant more and I was throwing water on 
the fire from the pailful beside the window ledge. 
After all, as I soon found, the bullet had 
done more apparent harm than the fire, for 


64 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


the heap of inflammable rubbish underneath 
the window was quickly drenched and the fire 
extinguished. To make all doubly secure, how- 
ever, I reloaded the gun and with that faithful 
friend in hand brought water and poured over 
the rubbish until it ceased even to smoke. The 
heap was composed of pine needles, pine cones, 
and resinous pitch pine, and once fairly started 
would have set the house on fire, past all saving, 
in a very short time. When the blackened pile 
was so thoroughly drenched that I could j)oke 
around in the ashes with my bare hands I gave 
up pouring water on it, went back into the 
house, locked the door, tacked a heavy blanket 
up over the dismantled window, and, shivering 
with cold and excitement, again crept into bed. 
As I lay with my finger on the trigger of the 
rifle, with its muzzle trained on the window, I 
was surer of nothing than that there was no 
more sleep for me that night. But, soothed by 
the sensation of returning warmth, and by the 
feeling of security that the touch of the rifle 
gave, I closed my eyes — not to sleep, but the 


AN EXCITING EXPERIENCE 


65 


better to think. Sleep ! I could not sleep. Nev- 
ertheless — 

The sunlight was pouring into the adjoining 
room when I again opened my eyes. Night 
with its terrors was a thing of the past. I 
heard the imprisoned cows lowing for their milk- 
maid and realized with a pang of self-reproach 
that I had slept later than I ought. Sitting up 
in bed I looked around, blinking sleepily. The 
light from the window was effectually excluded 
by the thick blanket, and my slumber had been 
so peaceful that I liad scarcely stirred ; my re- 
laxed hand had merely dropped away from the 
trigger of the rifle lying beside me. The cat 
was in her old place at my feet, and I smiled to 
see her trying to thrust an inquisitive paw into 
the muzzle of the gun. Finding the hole too 
small for that purpose she wriggled around 
lazily until she had brought an eye to bear on 
the cavity that she seemed to suspect might 
contain a mouse. Wlien I liad dressed and gone 
outside I was filled with wonder at the narrow- 
ness of the escape that tlie house had had. 


66 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


There had been no rain for weeks ; scarcely a 
drop, indeed, since the dreadful accident that 
had left us fatherless — and everything was as 
dry as tinder. Once started, a fire would have 
devastated the whole valley. In the retrospect 
the danger that we had esca23ed seemed even 
more terrifying than in the hurry and excite- 
ment of the fire itself. And — how came that 
heap of combustible stuff under the window? 
Who was that man whom I had seen running up 
the hillside as if pursued by the furies ? 

The morning’s chores done, I procured broom 
and rake and set about clearing away the un- 
sightly heap from under the window. I was 
raking industriously, when my eye was suddenly 
attracted by a small glittering object near tlie 
outer edge of the pile. Stooping, I picked it 
up. It lay in the hollow of my hand, and I 
stood looking at it for a long, long time. All 
things come to him who waits.” The origin of 
the fire was no longer a mystery, but there were 
other things. We had suffered nearly five years 
of petty, relentless persecution, and had never. 


AN EXCITING EXPEEIENCE 


67 


never by any chance, been able to produce any 
direct evidence against our enemy. The wind 
sweeping through the pine boughs on the hillside 
above had, to iny fancy, the sound that a great 
fire makes ; a great fire that, rioting unchecked, 
leaves suffering and death in its wake. ‘‘ Much 
harm would have been done to others besides us 
if I had not been here to put the fire out,’’ I 
thought, gravely regarding the thing in my 
hand. ‘‘ Much harm ; and the law punishes any 
one convicted of setting a fire, here in the 
mountains in a dry time, very severely.” Then 
I went into the house to put the glittering trifle 
safely out of sight. 


CHAPTEE VI 


A VISIT FROM MRS. HORTON 

I HAD not looked for Jessie and Ealpli 
to return before night, but the article that I 
had found was scarcely hidden when, chancing 
to glance down the road, I saw Mr. Horton’s 
team, with the light wagon attached, trotting 
briskly toward the house. 

Only Jessie, Ealph, and Mrs. Horton were in 
the wagon, and it startled me at first to observe 
that Ealph was driving. My astonishment 
changed to amusement as they drew nearer, and 
I saw that Mrs. Horton’s capable hands held a 
firm grip of the lines, just far enough behind 
Ealph’s not to deprive him of the glory of the 
idea that he was doing all the driving. 

’Oo ! ’oo, dere !” he called imperiously, bring- 
ing tlie horses — with Mrs. Horton’s heljD — to a 
standstill before the gate. Jessie sj^rang out 
and turned to lift the little driver to the ground, 
68 


A VISIT FROM MRS. HORTON 


69 


while we all begaa talking at once. But 
our mutual torrent of questions was abriq^tly 
checked by the contumacious conduct of that 
same small driver, who deeply resented Jessie^s 
invitation to him to come off his perch. 
“Me is doin’ tek care of ’e ’orses,” he declared, 
scowling defiance at liis sister. “ Mis ’Orton, ’oo 
dit out if ’oo p’ease !” 

No better description of Mrs. Horton could 
be given than to say that she was all that her 
husband was not — the dearest soul. She laughed 
as she surveyed the conceited little fellow and 
then said seriously : “ How in the world am I 
to get out if you don’t get out first and help me 
down ?” 

Balj)h was unprepared for this emergency, 
but the objection appeared to him reasonable ; 
he slid slowly off the seat — he was so short that 
it seemed a long time before his tiny toes touched 
the bottom of the wagon-box — and began climb- 
ing laboriously down, over the wheel. When 
he had at length reached the ground Mrs. Hor- 
ton stood up and with the reins held securely in 


70 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


one hand she gained the hub of the near wheel. 
From that vantage she reached down to meet 
Ralph’s upstretched mite of a hand, and so was 
gallantly assisted to alight. 

To my delight Mrs. Horton announced that 
she had come to spend the day with us. She 
led the team to the barn and we jiroceeded to 
unharness them without assistance from their 
late driver, who had already forgotten his inten- 
tion and his dignity in a romp with his friend 
and playmate, the cat. 

I suppose your tooth stopped aching and you 
decided not to have it out,” I said to Jessie, as 
we were helj)ing Mrs. Horton. 

“ No,” Mrs. Horton explained, cheerfully ; 
“ by the best of luck. Dr. Green chanced to be 
passing our house last night, soon after Jake 
brought Jessie. We called him in, and as he had 
his forcejis — toothers, my little brother used to 
call them — with him, he had that aching tooth 
out in no time.” 

I’m afraid it hurt you dreadfully, didn’t it, 
Jessie?” I inquired, sympathetically. 


A VISIT FROM MRS. HORTON 71 

‘‘ Not SO much as I tliouglit it would ; not so 
much as the aching did/' Jessie ]-eplied. “People 
are so cowardly about such things !" she added, 
and the sly look that Mrs. Horton bestowed on 
Jessie's sister behind her back, awoke a suspicion 
in my mind that, perhaps, Jessie herself had be- 
trayed some shrinking dread before the operation 
took place. 

“ How glad I am that you didn't have to go 
clear over to Antonito," I said. “You wouldn't 
have been home for hours yet, and Mrs. Horton 
wouldn't have been making us a visit." 

“And Mrs. Horton would a good deal rather 
be making you a visit than driving these horses 
to Antonito, I can tell you!" said that lady. 
“ They're quiet as lambs until it comes to cars 
and engines, and the siglit of them scares them 
both nigh to death, and the railway track runs 
along right beside the highway for a mile before 
you get into Antonito. I'd have been obliged to 
drive Jessie over, for the hired man is gone, and 
Mr. Horton met with an accident to one of 
his hands last night, and couldn't have driven." 


72 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


“ All accident ! How did it happen I in- 
quired, with feigned carelessness. 

Why, I declare, I can hardly make out 
how it did happen exclaimed Mr. Horton^s 
wife, with a troubled look. There, Jessie, that’s 
hay enough to last them a week, and I don’t ex- 
pect to stay that long. You see,” she went on, 
slipping the harness deftly off the nigh horse, 
and tossing it down on the pile of hay, nothing 
would do Jake last night but he must go up to 
the north pasture to salt the cattle. I told him 
there was no need — they were salted only last 
Sunday — but go he would, and go he did. It 
got to be so late before he came back that I got 
real uneasy about him. It’s a good bit to the 
north pasture, but I knew it ought not to keep 
him out so very late. Why, it was after twelve 
o’clock when he came in at last, with his clothes 
torn, and his hand done up in his handker- 
chief and just dripping with blood ! Jessie and 
Ralph had gone to bed, hours before, and I was 
thankful that she wasn’t up to see it, for it fairly 
scared me, and I’m not a mite nervous, generally. 


A VISIT FROM MRS. HORTON 


73 


I expect I was the more scared because of Jake^s 
way of taking it. He’s as steady as iron, most 
times, but last night he was all kind of trembly 
and excited. He tried to explain to me how the 
accident took place, but I couldn’t make out 
hardly what he did mean. It appears, though, 
that he was coming home along the ravine — 
where it’s always dark, no matter how bright the 
moonlight — and he jabbed his hand, as he was 
walking fast, up against a sharp jack oak stub 
— at least, he thought it must have been some 
such thing — and he got an awful cut. You 
wouldn’t believe, if you didn’t see it with your 
own eyes, that a stub of any kind could make 
such a wound! There’s a long, slanting cut 
clean through the palm of his hand. I wanted 
him to let me look in it for splinters, but he’s 
real touchy about it; wouldn’t even let me 
bathe it,” she concluded sadly. 

Everybody liked Mrs. Horton, and a good 
many things that her husband did would 
have been less easily condoned by their neigh- 
bors if she had been as little of a favorite as 


74 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


he, and one of the things that j^eople liked best, 
while finding it most incomprehensible, was that 
she believed in him and his good intentions 
most implicitly. 

I don’t see how he could possibly have run 
against an oak stub in a ravine,” observed Jessie, 
musingly, Oaks, and esjiecially jack oaks, 
grow only on the dry hillsides.” Jessie is very 
observing when it comes to a question of the flora 
of a country, and what she said was true, as Mrs. 
Horton hastened to admit. 

I never thought of it before, but I believe 
that’s so,” she said. “ It might have been some- 
thing else, but Jake himself said that there 
wasn’t any other kind of wood that he knew 
of, tough enough and hard enough to make 
such a cut as that.” 

Having cared for the horses we three started for 
the house. Did you have a good bed at Mrs. 
Riley’s?” Jessie now asked, bestowing direct at- 
tention on me for the first time. We were 
just entering the house, and before I could reply 
Jessie cried out in surprise at the unfamiliar as- 


A VISIT FKOM MRS. HORTON 


75 


pect of the bed-room, where the heavy quilt 
still excluded the daylight from the window. 

Why, what is that for V she asked, per- 
ceiving the cause of the semi-darkness. 

I had purposely refrained from telling my 
story until now. Now I told it, to the conster- 
nation of my auditors. Jessie could scarcely 
credit the evidence of her senses, and Mrs. Hor- 
ton said feelingly : 

‘‘ Thank God that you have a brave heart 
and good sense, Leslie ! If you hadn’t thought 
of that clause in the homestead law in time, and 
had gone away last night, I tell you this settle- 
ment would have been in mourning this morn- 
ing ! Seems to me that I just couldn’t bear for 
you children to lose this place now — this place 
that your poor pa had set his heart on ! And 
to think that such an accident should take j^lace 
so near the time of your proving up makes it so 
much the worse, for, if the house had gone, I 
don’t believe you could have got your title. No, 
not if you had taken down a dozen witnesses to 
testify to the burning. The law is strict. I 


76 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


doubt if the agent would have the power to 
give you a deed unless there was a house 
standing on the land at the moment that the 
deed was issued, no matter if he wanted to ever 
so badly.” 

She was full of sympathy and kindness, poor 
soul, and, listening to her exclamations and con- 
dolences, I was sorry for her. Jessie was right: 
there were no jack oaks in the ravine down 
which Mr. Horton must have passed on the way 
from the north pasture to his home. 


CHAPTER VII 


SURMISES 

Mrs. Horton and Jessie walked around the 
house to the bed-room window, and stood sur- 
veying the j)ile of rubbish beneath it, wonder- 
ing greatly why a fire should break out in that 
place. 

The only way I can account for it is that a 
spark from tlie chimney must have fallen into 
this pile and set it afire,’’ Mrs. Horton observed, 
turning bits of the pile in question over with 
the toe of her shoe. '^I’m not blaming you, 
Leslie, but it is true that young folks can’t be 
too careful with fire. I wouldn’t be a mite sur- 
prised now, if you just filled the kitchen stove 
full of dry stuff and set it off when you built a 
fire to get your supper.” 

‘‘ Leslie always does use lots of kindling,” in- 
terposed Jessie, wlio was, it must be admitted, 
more careful about small savings than I. 

77 


78 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


‘‘ You may depend on it, then, that that’s just 
how it happened,” Mrs. Horton went on, while 
I remained silent. You see, when you start a 
fire like that, lots of live sparks are carried 
up the chimney, and it’s just a mercy that there 
are not more houses burned than there are on 
account of it. I say it for your good, Leslie, 
when I say that I hope this will be a lesson to 
you ; you’ve had a narrow escape. My ! but it 
makes me shudder to think of it !” 

As she stopped talking to shudder more ef- 
fectively I ventured to make an observation 
that, it was strange, had occurred to neither 
Jessie nor herself : 

It took that spark — supposing the fire was 
started by a spark from the chimney — a long 
time to fall, didn’t it? It was after twelve 
when the fire broke out, and I had supper at 
six, besides — ” but there I checked myself. 
The more I thought the matter over, the more 
desirable it seemed that I should keep to myself 
the dreadful certainty that I felt in regard to 
the origin of the fire. If people liked to believe 


SUKMISES 


79 


that it was caused by some negligence or care- 
lessness of mine, it would only complicate mat- 
ters, beside robbing them of a comfortable con- 
viction, for me to tell that I had had no fire on 
the previous evening. Yet such was the case. 
I had made my solitary meal of bread and milk. 

“ What a girl you are, to be sure Mrs. Hor- 
ton exclaimed, in genuine admiration, as we 
turned back into the house. ‘‘ Now, why couldn’t 
Jessie or I think of that! Twelve hours to^ 
fall! No, it would have been six hours falling, 
wouldn’t it? You said the fire broke out about 
midnight. Well, you can think of more things 
and keep more quiet about them than any ten 
men that ever I saw. When I think of anything 
I like to tell of it, and I expect likely that’s the 
reason that I never think of real smart things ; 
I don’t hold on to them long enough ; I pick 
them before they’re ripe.” 

Jessie went to the stove and lifted a lid to 
peep inquiringly into the fire-box. ‘‘I’m not 
so sure that the fire wasn’t started as Mrs. Hor- 
ton says,” she declared. “ This stove holds fire 


80 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


for a long time, you know, Leslie. A gust of 
wind might have come up and made such a 
draft that the embers started to burning again.” 

“ If all the world were apple-pie, and all the 
sea were ink, and all the trees were bread and 
cheese, what should we have to drink ?” was my 
not irrelevant thought. In strict accordance, 
however, with the character for sagacity that 
Mrs. Horton had just given me, I said nothing ; 
but Mrs. Horton assented to the proposition 
with energy enough for both. Halph was giv- 
ing unmistakable signs of sleepiness. Mrs. 
Horton sat down and took him on her laj) ; the 
small head drooped on her shoulder while she 
went on to the creaking accompaniment of the 
old rocking chair. “ I’ve j ust thought of another 
Avay in which that fire might have been started ” 
— she evidently had it upon her conscience to 
furnish a satisfactory solution of the mystery — 
I have been noticing that you keep matches in 
that china saucer over the mantel-piece, and it’s 
right alongside the window-sill. Now, girls, I 
don’t want to seem to find fault witli any of 


SURMISES 


81 


your arrangements ; but I do like an iron match 
safe, with a heavy lid, better myself; then 
there’s no danger of their getting out, and you 
can’t be too careful about such things. Sup- 
pose, now, that one of those mountain rats that 
are always prying around, getting into every 
crack and crevice that they can wedge them- 
selves into — suppose one of them had come into 
the house, and crept out again with a lot of 
matches — they’ll eat anything — and suppose 
that rat went through the rubbish pile and 
rubbed against — ” 

But this line of reasoning proved too much 
for Jessie, who, with good cause, prided herself 
upon her housekeeping. 

There isn’t a hole big enough for a rat to 
crawl through in the house !” she declared, with 
some warmth. 

The rooms were all lathed and plastered. 
Mrs. Horton looked around. “ One might come 
in at a window,” she suggested, with less confi- 
dence. 

Knowing the truth, and having in my pos- 
6 


82 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


session the means of proving it, if need be, I 
took a somewhat wicked pleasure in this game 
of wild conjecture. It was, at all events, a 
satisfaction to be able to veto this last propo- 
sition. 

‘‘There were only two windows open, Mrs. 
Horton, and they were open only a few inches 
at the top,’^ I said. 

“ A rat might climb up the side of the 
window, and come in that way,’’ was the reply to 
this. “ But” — her face suddenly brightening as 
a new solution of the mystery flashed upon her 
mind — “ I don’t think it was a rat, after all, and 
I’ll warrant I know now just how it hajDpened. 
Last night was Wednesday night, you know, 
and they always have those dancing-parties out 
at Morley’s tavern, beyond the Eastern Slope, 
of a Wednesday night. Lots of those Crusoe 
miners go to them, and they all smoke. Now 
what’ll you chance that as one of them was com- 
ing home — they have to go right past here — he 
didn’t light a match for his cigar, and when he 
was throng] 1 with it, fling the match right down 


SURMISES 


83 


against the house, or, maybe, he threw the 
stub of a cigar down 

‘‘ It might be, I suppose,” Jessie admitted, 
rather reluctantly. She was evidently disposed 
to abide by her own theory of reviving embers 
and falling sparks. 

“ Oh, I^m well-nigh sure, now that I think of 
it, that that was the way it happened,” Mrs. 
Horton insisted, pausing to brush Ralph’s damp 
curls back from his forehead. “You see, I 
wouldn’t feel so positive that it was done in just 
that way if it wasn’t for an experience that we 
had, here in the valley a long spell ago.” 

“ You refer to the time when the great forest 
was burned ?” Jessie inquired rather absently. 
She had seated herself at the sewing machine 
and was busily running up the seams of Ralph’s 
new kilt. 

“Yes; that’s the time. It was before you 
came here. And the fire was set in the way I 
spoke of. A couple of young men — they 
weren’t much more than boys — came up from 
town, and they were just at that age when 


84 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


they tliought it a smart thing to be able to 
smoke a cigar without turning sick after it. 
They were staying at the hotel, and one clay they 
went with a j)arty from there up to see the 
marble quarries. There’d been an awful dry 
spell ; it had lasted for weeks, and everything 
was just as dry as touch-wood. There were 
notices posted all along the roads and trails, for- 
bidding folks building camp-fires, or anything of 
that kind. The boys, after they had been to the 
c^uarries, started home ahead of the others, and 
on foot. I don’t reckon that they’d got above a 
quarter of a mile from the quarries when they 
pulled out some cigars and matches, intending, 
of course, to have a smoke. Well, they had it, 
but it wasn’t just the kind they’d expected. 
First one, then the other, threw down their 
lighted matches, after they’d got their cigars 
to going. The wind was blowing hard in 
their faces and toward the quarry, as it 
happened, and the next thing they knew 
they heard a great roaring, and as they said 
afterward, two pillars of fiame seemed to spring 


SURMISES' 


85 


right out of the ground, one on either side 
of the trail, and to reach so high that they 
almost touched the tree-tops. In less time than 
I’m taking in telling of it they had reached 
the tree-tops, and then the two little pillars 
of fire became a great blazing ocean of fire up in 
mid-air. You know how ’tis with j^iue needles 
and cones ; they make a blaze as if the end of 
the world had come. No wonder the poor 
boys were scared ! It was right in the thickest 
part of the woods, and what with the fire roar- 
ing away before the wind on either side of them, 
and the clouds of smoke and sparks roaring 
away above the burning tree-tops, it must have 
been an awful sight. They were in no particular 
danger themselves, because the fire was going 
away from them, but as they stood there, blister- 
ing in the heat, they thought of their parents — 
their parents, who were right in the path of the 
flames, and in the way they acted uj) to that 
thought, you may see the difference in folks. 
One of them — Dick Adams, his name was — 
pulled his hat down over his eyes, shook out his 


86 


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liandkercliief and tied it over his month to save 
his lungs, and said to the other, ‘ If anything 
happens to our folks we are the ones to blame 
for it; come on and help;’ and with that he 
gave a leap down the trail as if he would over- 
take the fire itself. But the other boy, he 
wasn’t made of that kind of stuff. He just 
turned and ran the other way, and folks did say 
that he never sto|)ped running until he reached 
town, twenty miles away. AVlien poor Dick, 
blackened with grime and smoke, Avith his hair 
singed and his burnt shoes dropping off his feet, 
staggered into the open sj)ace about the quarry, 
there were the folks, and even the horses, all 
safe. They hadn’t started when they saAV the 
fire coming, and so, knowing that they were 
safe where they were, they stayed. The fire 
swept past them on either side, and all they 
had to do was to wait till the trail got cool 
enough to travel over. There was no great 
damage done after all, though a great many 
trees Avere destroyed, but so Avere acres and acres 
of underbrush, and that was a big help to 


SURMISES 


87 


stockmen. Dick was pretty well done up, but 
he didn’t care for any more cigars, and his 
father paid the fine that the township’s trustees 
assessed against him, cheerful on that account, 
though he said he was sorry he couldn’t save the 
timber. Now, Leslie,” she concluded her story, 
abruptly, if you’ll just move those hats a little 
I’ll lay the baby on the bed.” 

After I had comj)lied, and Ralj)h’s head was 
on a pillow instead of her arm, she came to 
Jessie’s side and stood regarding her work 
thoughtfully. 

‘‘You’re real spry on the machine, aren’t 
you ?” she at length remarked, admiringly. 
“ Now me, I’m as slow !” She looked around the 
room and continued, with seeming irrelevance : 
“ I ’spose the furnishings must have cost you a 
good deal ?” Her tone was very gentle. 

“Yes,” Jessie returned, comj)rehending her 
meaning with the quick intuition that grief 
gives. “Yes; they did.” 

“ Well, he’s at rest. You can visit his grave. 
They’re worth all they cost and more, but I was 


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TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


thinking now if you felt like taking in a little 
sewing to help along until — ’’ 

Why, I’d like to do it, dear Mrs. Horton !” 
Jessie interrupted, looking up with sparkling 
eyes. “ I’ve never thought of it before, but if 
I could get it to do I would be so glad ! Every 
little toward the proving up is just so much 
gained.” 

Tliat is what I was thinking. I can let 
you have quite a little work myself, and I 
know there are others who will be glad of a 
chance to get sewing done. I declare, I’m glad 
I thought of it ! It will be so nice for you to 
do something to help out right here at home. 
And,” she went on, her kind eyes shining, 
“ maybe you can learn to be a dressmaker — ” 
‘^No, no!” interposed Jessie, who had her 
future comfortably mapped out in her mind. 
“ I mean to be a teacher.” 

“Do you? That’s a good, respectable trade, 
too, and a teacher you shall be if I can do any- 
thing to help you get a school.” 

Jessie smiled up at her gratefully. Mrs. 


SURMISES 


89 


Horton might not, perhaps, have great influ- 
ence in educational circles, but the highest 
authority among them could not have had a 
kinder heart. But something that Mrs. Horton 
had said set me thinking of quite another 
matter. 

‘‘If you were here so long ago,’’ I observed, 
suspending my task of shelling peas, and look- 
ing earnestly at our visitor, “why didn’t Mr. 
Horton take up some land? He could have 
taken anything, almost then, and I — we — I have 
sometimes thought that he kind of wanted this 
j)lace,” I concluded, weakly. 

Mrs. Horton’s gentle face flushed ; she was 
really fond of her husband, who, to be sure, was 
very careful not to let any knowledge of his 
underhanded doings come to her ears. 

“To tell the truth, Leslie,” she said, “I’ve 
thought now and again myself that Jake was 
looking after this place. It’s a beautiful place ; 
there isn’t another as pretty in the valley, but 
when we first came here folks were not thinking 
of taking up land — no, indeed. Cattle ranges 


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TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


were what they were after, and they couldn’t 
abide the settler that put up fences. No ; Jake 
let Ids chance of taking the place slij), and your 
father took it up ; and that was right ; he wasn’t 
a cattleman, and he needed the land to work. 
Don’t you fret about Jake’s wanting it. He 
don’t need it, for one thing, for we’re rejll well 
to do, if I do say it, and it would be a pretty 
unneighborly thing for him to grudge the 
place to you now. You see, Jake’s ways are 
different. He makes folks think, often, I make 
no doubt, that he’s set on getting things when 
he isn’t, really. I expect he’d feel quite hurt if 
you were to lose this place.” 

‘‘Unless he got it himself,” was my silent 
amendment. 

“ We could buy the ranch where we are,” 
Mrs Horton went on, “ and I wish Jake was 
willing to do it ; I’m like your father was ; I 
want a home of my own, but Jake says he 
doesn’t like that place as well as he does another 
that he has in mind.” 

“What place is that?” asked Jessie. 


SUKMISES 


91 


“ I don’t know, really, Jake’s no hand to talk 
over business matters with me ; no hand at all, 
and so I don’t worry him. I just let him take 
his own gait.” And a very bad gait it was, if 
she had but known it, poor woman ! 

No more was said about the land, the re- 
mainder of the day passed pleasantly, and it 
was nearly night-fall when Mrs. Horton again 
climbed into the wagon-seat and headed the 
horses toward home. Good-bys had been ex- 
changed when, suddenly, she drew in the restless 
horses to say : ‘‘You tell old Joe, when he comes 
back, how that fire got started ; tell him that he 
must be more careful, these dry times, how he 
lets such a lot of dry stuff get lodged against the 
house.” And, with that admonition, she was 
gone. 


CHAPTER VIII 


‘‘best laid plans” 

Joe came home the next day, and his indig- 
nation, when Jessie told him of the fire, and of 
the manner — presumably — in which it origi- 
nated, was nearly as scorching as the fire itself. 
Nothing in the whole affair seemed to rouse his 
wrath to such a pitch as did her recital of the 
theories that she and Mrs. Horton had evolved 
to account for the threatened disaster. 

“W’at sort of fool talk dat?” he inquired, 
contemptuously, when Jessie had concluded. 

“ Why, Joe, the fire must have started in 
some such way !” Jessie insisted. 

“ Honey, yo^s done got a forgibbin’ sperrit ; 
yo’ not only forgibs yo’ inimy, like what de 
Bible say fur ter do, but yo’ eben furgits dat yo’ 
has one !” 

“ Oh, Joe ! Surely you cannot think that it 
was the work of an incendiary ?” 

92 


BEST LAID PLANS 


93 


it 




“ Ob a ’ciiidery ? No, hit aiii’ dat.’’ 

“ What do you think, then, Joe 
‘‘W^at I thnk? Some low-down sneak sot 
hit afire. Dat’s w^at I thnk. An^ I wouldn^ 
hah ter hunt long afore I done laid my haids 
on him, neider.’’ Jessie looked so shocked, and 
so cast down, that, chancing to catch the old 
man’s eye, I shook my head at him warningly. 
Joe understood. His beloved master Ralpli’s 
tactics had been those of silence and Joe was 
willing to follow them to the end. But he mut- 
tered scornfully : ‘‘ ’Cindery ? Dat a likely 

idee; w’en I nebber lef ’ a heap o’ stuff like dat 
ag’in’ nobody’s house en all my life ! Look like 
I’d go fur ter doin’ hit now, w’en dish yer house 
hole my own fambly !” 

He seated himself in the corner with a bit of 
harness that he had brought up to the house to 
mend, in his hand, but presently he began 
searching anxiously for some mislaid tool. 

‘‘ What have you lost, Joe ?” I asked. 

W’y, I ain’ right shore as I done los’ any- 
t’ing, chile, but de needle an’ t’read w’at I put 


94 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


ill dis cheer, ag’iii’ I wanted ’em, ’jiear to hah 
crope away some’ers ; likewise dat ar leetle case 
knife w’at I cuts leather wiv’. Dey’s gone, an’ 
I doan see dat chile E-alph ’round’ nowliere’s.” 

Just at this point the door was jiushed a little 
farther open and a cheerful voice proclaimed : 

Here me is. Doe !” 

The voice was followed by its owner, little 
Ralph, but such a curious sjiectacle the boy 
presented that the occupants of the room stared 
at him a moment in amazed silence. Jessie was 
the first to recover her power of speech and re- 
monstrance : 

“ Ralph ! Oh, what have you been doing, you 
naughty, naughty boy !” 

It was evident that the little trespasser had 
not realized that his recent occupation had been 
in any way objectionable. His lips began to 
quiver, but he stood his ground manfully. 

‘‘ Me isn’t a notty, notty b’y, Jeppie. Me is 
a yittle ’orse, an’ ’ese are ’e yittle ’orse’s ley 
bells.” 

‘‘ Sleigh bells ! Didn’t you know any better 


BEST LAID PLANS 


95 






than to pull up all of Joe’s cantaloupes and string 
them on to threads — how you could do it I can’t 
imagine — to hang around your shoulders?” 

“ Dey isn’t ’antelopes, Jeppie ; dey’s ley hells.” 

‘‘ How did you do it? Oh, you naughty — ” 

‘‘ Me did it wiv Doe’s little knife an’ Doe’s 
needle an’ t’read ; an’ me hurted me’s ban’s, me 
did.” 

The recollection gave him the excuse that 
he was longing for. The string to one of his 
odd sets of sleigh-bells broke as he started across 
the room, with outstretched arms, for Joe, and 
he left a trail of small, hard, green melons as he 
ran. “ Doe !” he cried, as the old man lifted 
him tenderly to his breast, “me hurted me 
ban’s !” The howl of anguish with which he 
repeated the statement was partially smothered 
by reason of the sufferer’s face being buried in 
Joe’s neck. “ Jeppie say me is notty, notty 
b’y !” he continued, sobbing. 

“ Miss Jessie,” the old man said, with dignity, 
looking disaiiprovingly at his young mistress 
over the boy’s shaking shoulders, “ yo’ means 


96 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


well, honey ; I ain’ a doubtin’ ob dat, but yo’ 
done got er heap ter learn ’bout managin’ chil- 
len. Yo’s done hurted pore little Ralph’s feel- 
in’s mighty bad !” 

‘‘ His feelings ought to be hurt !” Jessie per- 
sisted, indignantly. ‘‘A boy who is old enough 
to do such a piece of mischief as that is old 
enough to know better. And, Joe, it isn’t right 
for you to encourage him in it.” 

“ Honey, hit ain’ likely, now, is hit, dat any 
one has dish yer pore little feller’s good more at 
heart dan I has, now is hit ?” 

‘‘ No, Joe, it isn’t.” 

“ Berry well, den ; now yo’ listen at me. Ef 
I had a’ t’ought ob hit w’en I was a plantin’ 
dem dere little yeller seeds I’d put out a patch 
on purpose for dis chile ter ’a’ had fur a marble 
quarry, or fur sleigh-bells, or w’atebber he tuck 
a notion fur. But I didn’t t’ink of hit, an’ de 
chile did. Hat’s all !” 

It was utterly useless to argue against such 
self-abnegation as this, but Jessie could not for- 
bear saying : Think of the trouble you have 


BEST LAID PLANS 


97 


(C 


taken with that melon patch. YouVe scoured 
the whole valley, high and low, for tin cans to 
cover the vines when a frost was threatened, 
and youVe spent days in hoeing and weeding 
them.^’ 

And dere ain’ a purtier patch oh melons, er 
a more promisin’ one, in de whole State, ef I 
does say hit !” Joe declared with pride. 

‘‘ Don’t be too sure of that, Joe. You haven’t 
seen it since Ralph has been over it.” 

Joe shifted the child’s position, so that the 
tear-stained little white face rested against his 
own, to wliich it formed a wonderful and beau- 
tiful contrast. W’at melons dese yer little 
ban’s been a-23ullin’ up ain’ no loss t’ nobody,” 
he said ; an’ I wants de chile t’ ’joy hisself.” 

A subsequent examination of the melon patch 
established the truth of Joe’s words. At the 
moment, however, the idea that Ralph gathered 
was that he had done a rather commendable 
thing than otherwise. Shall me pull up ’e 
rest of ’em ?” he asked hopefully, snuggling 
closer to the black face. Joe stole a sheepish 


98 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


look at Jessie, whose eyes were dancing with 
amusement. 

“ Not jess yit, wouldn’t go fur t’ pull ’em, 
honey, chile. Wait twell dey’s growed ’bout as 
big as er coffee-cup, an’ den jess bring yo’ little 
toofies tergedder on de inside o’ one of ’em. Yo’s 
et oranges, an’ yo’s squalled hard w’en dey was 
gone, ’cause dere wan’t no mo’ of ’em. But yo’ 
won’t look at a orange when yo’ kin git a can- 
taloupe.” 

“Den me lets ’em drow,” Balidi declared 
magnanimously, and it is but fair to the child 
to say that he kept his word. 

“ Come and gather up all your sleigh-bells, 
then, Balph,” Jessie admonished him. 

Climbing down from Joe’s lap he set about 
the clearance, awkwardly enough. The abbre- 
viated skirt of his little dress was about half 
filled — he had made a kind of bag of it by gath- 
ering the folds tightly in one hand while he 
picked up melons with the other — when there 
came a knock at the door. Dropping the spoil 
that he had already secured, Ralph ran across 


BEST LAID PLANS 


99 


u 

the room to admit the caller, the melons rolling 
in every direction. Joe glanced at them appre- 
hensively, and then gave his undivided atten- 
tion to the harness mending. 

The visitor who entered the room on Ralph’s 
hospitable invitation was our near neighbor, 
Caleb AVilson. Mr. Wilson glanced at the 
array of hard little spheres on the floor and 
laughed. 

“ I’ll bet a cent you’ve been up to mischief, 
youngster,” he said, nodding to me as I handed 
him a chair. 

He looked smilingly at Ralph, who retreated 
to Joe’s side, and made no answer. 

“ Ralph, do you hear Mr. Wilson ?” Jessie 
sternly inquired. 

‘‘ ’Ess ; me hears him.’ 

‘‘ Why don’t you answer him, then ?” 

“ ’Tause he didn’t ask me nuffin’. ” 

Joe’s sombre face lighted up; his white 
ivories gleamed out suddenly like a flash of sun- 
light through a storm cloud. To Joe’s mind 
few people had a right to question the doings of 


100 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


a Gordon, of any age or degree, and Mr. Wilson 
was not one of the favored few. Our genial 
neighbor laughed. 

‘‘ That’s right, my little man ; I didn’t. I 
made a statement, and you seem to be sharp 
enough already to see the difference.” 

He had been carrying a covered tin pail in 
his hand. He now set it on the floor beside his 
chair, while Jessie, who had it much at heart 
that her little brother must be properly trained, 
remarked : 

“ Kalph has been very naughty.” 

‘‘He’ll come out all right; don’t you go to 
worrying about him. Miss Jessie,” Mr. Wilson 
admonished her, cheerfully. “ He’s nothing 
but a baby, anyway,” he continued, “ but what 
even a baby can want of all those little green 
knobs of cantaloupes is more’n I can tell, but 
seeing ’em calls to my mind a fruit speculation 
of mine, last summer.” 

“ I thought you were a cattleman ?” I in- 
terrupted, involuntarily. 

Mr. Wilson glanced down at the pail beside 


BEST LAID PLANS 


101 


(( 




his chair. ‘‘ Well, I am, Leslie, hut a cattle- 
man doesn’t have to be sensible all the time. I 
had a kind of spell last summer wlien I wasn’t 
sensible, and while it was at its height I got 
hold of a pile of young tomato plants and set 
’em out. You see, as everybody else, pretty 
nigh, is in the cattle business, too, there aint 
much fruit raised around here, and so I ’lowed 
I’d be able to dispose of my tomato crop to good 
advantage. Along in August the crop was 
ready to market, and it was a hummer, no mis- 
take. The construction gang and the engineers 
were working on the big storage reservoirs out 
beyond Turtle Shell Buttes then, just as they 
are now. There’s a lot of men employed there 
and I knew that there was the place to go with 
my tomatoes.” 

“ What, away out on the plains, beyond the 
valley ? That must be twenty miles away,” 
Jessie remarked, as Mr. Wilson paused to 
chuckle over some amusing reminiscence. 

‘‘ It’fc all of that ; maybe more. But you 
must remember that driving over the plains is 


102 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


like driving over a level floor. Distance doesn’t 
count for much when the roads are always 
smooth and even. Well; one afternoon Tom 
and I filled the bottom of the wagon-box with 
a soft bed of fresh alfalfa hay and then we piled 
tomatoes in on top of it till they came clean up 
to the edge of the top bed. Of course if the 
roads had been rough it aint likely that even a 
cattleman would a’ thought of taking such a 
load in that way ; as it was, I reckon there wasn’t 
a tomato smashed in transit. I didn’t get quite 
as early a start as I’d ’lowed to, so it was just 
noon when I reached the camp.” 

I should have thought that you would lose 
the way,” I said. My mind had conjured up a 
vivid picture of the far stretches of unfenced 
plains that lay between our mountain-walled 
valley and the great water storage system where 
a single lake already sparkled like a white jewel 
on the gray waste of jflains. There are wolves, 
too,” I added, suddenly. 

‘‘Yes; there are wolves, but they don’t eat 
tomatoes. And, as for losing the road, all that 


BEST LAID PLANS 


103 




I haci to do was to follow it ; it stretches out, 
plain as a white ribbon on a black dress. As I 
said, it was noon when I reached camp. All 
hands had struck work and gone to dinner, so 
I thought I^d wait till they got through before 
I sprung the subject of tomatoes on them. 

There ain’t a tree nor a shrub bigger than a 
soa]^ weed within a mile of the reservoirs, and 
as I didn’t want to set and hold the horses all 
the time, I unhitched ’em and tied ’em to the 
wagon box ; one on each side. I knew that 
they wouldn’t eat the tomatoes, and, as there was 
plenty of horse feed in cam]), I ’lowed to buy their 
dinner when I run on to some one to buy it of. 
It turned out, though, that the horses didn’t un- 
derstand about that ; they had a scheme of their 
own, and they worked it to good advantage. 

I strolled off, and pretty soon I got mighty 
interested in lookin’ at the works ; it’s a big 
enterprise, I tell you ! I was gone from the 
wagon a good deal longer than I’d laid out to 
be, and I don’t know as I’d ’a’ woke up for an 
hour or two, but I heard a fellow laughin’ over 




104 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


that way and so I went over to see what was 
goin’ on. Well, I found out.” Mr. W^ilson 
paused iiujiressively and glanced around at us. 
Joe was listening with such absorbed attention 
that his work had slipped unheeded from his 
hands and Ralph had again secured the harness 
needle and was awkwardly re-stringing his imi- 
tation sleigh bells. “ What was it ?” I asked. 

‘‘ Why, you see, I^d plumb forgot about the 
alfalfa hay, but the horses had remembered, and 
they nosed through the fruit until they come to 
it, and they hadn^t lost a minute’s time, either. 
When the hay’d given out in one place they’d 
worked through at another until they struck 
bed rock again. The whole load was just a 
mass of tomato jam ; the juice was running out 
of the box in a stream, and the horses were red 
with it from hoof to forelock. There wasn’t a 
bushel of whole fruit left. I jerked out the 
tail-board and dumped the mess on the ground, 
while about forty men stood around just yellin’ 
and hootin’ with delight. They got more 
pleasure out of it than they could possibly ’a’ 


BEST LAID PLANS 


105 


(t 


yf 


got from eatin’ the tomatoes. The cook came 
out of his little tent alongside the big dining 
tent, to see what the racket was about, and when 
he got his eyes on the fruit he was powerful 
mad. He said heM a’ given a dollar and a half 
a bushel for the load. He wanted me to promise 
to come with another load the next day, but I’d 
had enough of fruit raisin’ — ’specially when the 
horses did the heft of the raisin’ — I wouldn’t ’a’ 
faced that yellin’ crowd again for a hundred 
dollars. No, sir ! I come right straight home, 
and I sent word ’round among the neighbors to 
come and help themselves to all the tomatoes 
they could lug home ; what they didn’t take the 
frost did, and that was the end of my experi- 
ment in fruit raising.” 

It was just too bad !” I exclaimed, feeling 
that I ought to say something sympathetic. 

Oh, I don’t know,” returned our neighbor, 
in his comfortable way. It was all my fault. 
A man’s got to keep his wits about him, no 
matter what he undertakes to do, and I left 
mine at home that day. My wife’ll think I’m 


106 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


lost, wits and all, if I stay much longer, that’s 
a fact.” 

He rose to his feet, and, after bidding us a 
cordial farewell, started for the door. Then the 
pail on the floor caught his eye to remind 
him that his intractable wits had again 
strayed. ‘‘Well, I declare for it! I come 
nigh forgetting what I stoj)ped for. Seems 
like a good way to come for milk, doesn’t 
it? We had company come unexpected, and 
nothing would do Sarah but I must ride over 
here and ask you for some milk. Condensed 
milk is good enough for us, but Sarah says it 
ain’t good enough for com^iany.” 

Jessie had already taken the pail and started 
for the pantry; when she reappeared with it 
filled, she said, demurely : 

“ I thought that you said you were a cattle- 
man, Mr. Wilson.” 

“ Oh, bless you I Don’t you know the old 
saying about a shoemaker’s wife ? Lots of folks 
that can count their cattle by the thousand head 
would be glad if they could be sure of as much 


BEST LAID PLANS 


107 




ff 


nice milk and butter as you girls get off your 
two cows, Miss Jessie. It’s management, you 
see.” 

‘‘ You mean want of management, don’t you?” 
returned Jessie, smiling. 

Mr. Wilson’s jolly laugh floated back to us as 
he went down the walk toward the horse that 
was waiting for him at the gate, and then I 
roused myself to observe that Joe was again 
hunting for his tools. He presently rescued 
them from Ralph’s destructive little hands, and 
set to work, only pausing the while to remark : 

I reckons dat ar watah sto’age camp gwine 
be a ’mighty good place fur to sell we all’s 
melon crap at.” 


CHAPTER IX 


AN IMPOETANT ANNOUNCEMENT 

The Hortons’ place was some five miles below 
ours, if one followed the main road, but they 
were often passing the house on their way to and 
from the little country store and post-office. So 
it was not surprising that Mrs. Horton should 
reappear in a few days with a large bundle of 
sewing of her own for Jessie to do, and the in- 
telligence that she had interviewed several of the 
neighbors, some of whom had said that they 
would gladly emjDloy Jessie. 

You are so good, Mrs. Horton,” Jessie ex- 
claimed gratefully. ‘‘ It will be a real help to 
us if we are able to earn a little in this way.” 

“ Maybe you won’t feel so anxious to do it 
when you see what I’ve brought,” the good 
woman said, as she proceeded to untie her bulky 
bundle. ‘‘You see,” she explained, “Jake 
nearly tore the coat from his back when he 
108 


AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT 109 

went up to salt those cattle the other night. He 
seems, from what I can make out, to have had a 
regular circus with himself, and I’m so busy, 
what with the housework and being obliged to 
do all the trading — for Jake never will go to 
the store if he can get out of it — I’ve had no 
time to mend it. I put it right in here with 
the other things, hojiing that you or Leslie 
wouldn’t mind mending it for me.” 

My very spine seemed to stiffen at the idea of 
mending the clothing that had been torn while 
its wearer was making a futile attempt to burn 
our house, but Jessie, knowing nothing of all 
this, and naturally trustful, replied tranquilly : 

“Certainly, we will, Mrs. Horton, if you 
think we can do it well enough.” 

“ Oh ! anybody can do it well enough. If I 
had my way with it I’d j^ut it into the stove 
and have done with it,” she announced frankly. 
“ It’s seen its best days. But it appears to me 
that the longer Jake wears a thing the better he 
likes it. What a figure he would have made in 
the days of Methuselah, to be sure !” 


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TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


She shook the coat out and laid it on 
the table. Jessie turned it over, examining 
some gaping rents, evidently of recent make. 
Finally, 

“ Here’s a button gone,” she said. I felt my 
face grow white, while Mrs. Horton explained 
placidly : 

‘‘Yes; and that’s a pity, for the buttons are 
worth more than the coat. They’re quite 
curious, if you’ll notice. I never saw any like 
them before he got that coat. I think myself 
that that little brass leaf stuck on to the front 
of them looks fussy on a man’s coat but- 
tons, but Jake thinks they’re so tasty. He 
was wonderfully put out when he found that 
he’d lost one of them. The land sake, Leslie !” 
she broke off suddenly as her glance fell on me. 
“Are you sick, child ? Why, you are as pale as 
a sheet! Isn’t she, Jessie?” 

Jessie, glancing up from the tattered coat, in 
alarm, confirmed this statement, and they were 
both anxiously inquiring if I felt sick, and how 
long since the attack came on, and if I hadn’t 


AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT 111 

better go right to bed, when a diversion was 
created by the entrance of Joe. Joe had the 
weekly county paper open in his hand ; he could 
read a little in a halting and uncertain fashion, 
but did not often trouble himself to do it. ‘‘ There 
must have been something of special interest to 
him in this issue,’’ I thought, and was not left 
long in doubt as to what it was. 

Heah we is !” he exclaimed, gleefully, ex- 
tending the paper toward Jessie ; heah’s our 
third and las^ notice ob provin’ up !” 

“Oh, is it there?” cried Jessie, seizing the 
paper, and running her eye quickly over the 
item indicated by Joe’s stubby black finger. 
Mrs. Horton, brushing her husband’s cherished 
coat from the chair where Jessie had dropped it 
to the floor, seated herself, leaning forward in 
anxious attention, and even Ralph, abandoning 
a furtive attempt to put the cat in the water- 
pail, came and leaned against her knees, while 
Jessie read aloud : 

“Before the United States Land Office at 
Fairplay, Chico County, on August 30th, 18—, 


112 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


will appear, viz. : Ralph C. Gordon, who enters 
Homestead claim. No. 4571, for the W. 1-2, 
W, 1-4, Section 34, and S. 1-2 Section 33, 
Township 22. S, Range 68 W. 

“ Ralph C. Gordon names the following wit- 
nesses to prove his continuous residence upon, 
and cultivation of said land, viz. : 

W. H. Wright, S. H. Stearns, C. L. Wilson, 
all of Chico County. 

“ W. W. Bayard, Register.” 

We all listened to the reading with breathless 
interest. When it was concluded Mrs. Horton 
observed: ‘‘Wright, Stearns, and Wilson, 
they Ve your witnesses, are they ?” 

“Yes; father selected them, you know,” 
Jessie replied. 

“They’re good men, all of them, but, I 
declare, I wish that your pa had thought to 
put Jake on, too! It would have given me a 
good excuse to go down with you when the day 
comes. Not but what I mean to go anyhow, for 
that matter. Well, now, your date is set. It 
wasn’t set before, was it?” 


AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT 113 

“ No ; the other notices read : ‘ On a day to 
be hereinafter named, etc/ ” 

“August 30th,” Mrs. Horton repeated, mu- 
singly ; “ let’s see, this is the 15th. You’ve got 
two weeks and a day yet to wait. It don’t 
give a great amount of time to get money in, 
but it’s a relief to know when it’s coming off, 
isn’t it ?” 

Joe had been sitting in his corner, saying 
nothing, but, just at this point, I saw him roll 
his eyes scornfully at our neighbor, and won- 
dered if it could be that the old man was jealous 
of her openly expressed interest in the little 
family to which he laid prior claim. “Yes,” 
Jessie said, replying to Mrs. Horton’s question : 
“ It is a great relief, and, after all, we’ve done 
about all that we can to make ready for it.” 

“ I’m not doubting that, still, I wish, now 
that we’ve thought of it, that you did have 
time to earn a little more by sewing. How 
much are the witnesses’ fees ?” 

“ Six dollars each ; it will take eighteen dol- 
lars for that alone,” Jessie told her. 

8 


114 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


Eighteen dollars ! and I don’t suppose 
you can have much more than that on hand !” 
Mrs. Horton’s face lengthened. I wish I had 
it to lend you,” she remari:ed, at last. ‘‘ You 
could pay me in sewing ; but Jake — ” 

We had heard of Mr. Horton’s views on the 
money question. He always ran bills at the 
store because, he said, a woman couldn’t be 
trusted with ready cash. Give a woman her 
head and she’ll spend all a man has on knick- 
knacks !” was an observation with which even 
his chance acquaintances were unduly familiar. 
How often, then, must his poor wife have 
heard it. 

Pitying her halting effort to give a good ex- 
cuse for not having the sum needed — when they 
were so wealthy — and still loyally shield her 
tyrant, I said : * J’m sure the witnesses will not 
be at all hard on us ; they will be willing to wait 
a little if necessary, don’t you think so, Jessie ?” 

But before Jessie could reply, Joe interposed : 
‘‘ Mr. Wilson, he done say he goin’ gib me a 
chance for to wuck for him w’en I wants to ; 


AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT 115 

mebbe I goin’ want ter wuck out dem witness 
fee ; no tellin’.” 

This was ambiguous, but we well understood 
that the old man did not like to talk of business 
matters before strangers — as he regarded every 
one outside the immediate family. 

“Your first notice came out along in the 
spring, didn’t it ?” Mrs. Horton inquired. 

“ In April,” Jessie replied, and was silent, a 
dreamy look in her eyes, while I vividly re- 
called the stormy day when father came back 
from a visit to the post-office with the paper 
containing the first notice in his hand. I heard 
the AjDril rain beating against the window jianes 
while father told us children — for Jessie and I 
were children then ; it was so long ago, measured 
by heart-beats, oh ! so long ago — tliat our no- 
tice was out and the witnesses named. 

Joe broke a little silence by remarking : 
“ Here’s ten acres ob as fine w’eat as ebber 
growed out doahs, a waitin’ to be cut an’ 
threshed atwixt dat day an’ dis.” 

“ Ten acres !” Mrs. Horton echoed. “ What 


116 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


a help that'll be to you ! I do hope you'll get 
it taken care of all right." 

‘‘ I'se goin' tek keer ob hit ; yo' needn't fur 
to fret about dat. I'se goin' at hit, hammer an' 
tongs, day arter to-morry mornin'." 

“ Why not to-morrow ?" Jessie inquired 
eagerly ; Leslie and I can help you." 

“ I reckons dere can't nobody help me much 
w'en I'se done got a broken reaper to wuck 
with." 

“ Oh, that's too bad ! How long will it take 
to get it fixed ?" Jessie asked. 

“ I'se done get hit fixed to-morry, sure, den — 
we see." 

‘‘ Leslie and I will help you," Jessie repeated. 

The wheat is worth more than any sewing that 
we can do. If we can get it marketed it will 
pay up all our bills, nearly, won't it, Joe ?" 

‘‘ I spec' maybe hit will, honey," Joe returned, 
grinning complacently. “ Do'an you chi'llen 
fret about nothin'," he continued earnestly. 
“Dem bills all goin' be paid u}), clean to de 
handle." 


AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT 117 

I confess that I felt far less sanguine than he 
appeared to be on that point. 

“ Isn’t it a mercy that our corn and wheat 
have been let to grow in peace this year?” I 
said, after Mrs. Horton had taken her leave. 
‘‘ It’s the first year since we have been here that 
such a thing has happened.” 

I hope it will be the last year that we will 
have to try raising a crop without a fence,” 
Jessie replied. For our fence building had 
stopped abruptly with the digging of some post 
holes on that day in April. Pumping the water 
out of the mine had been an expensive piece of 
work, and all the valley people who had lost 
relatives in the accident, many who had not, in- 
deed, had come gallantly to the Gray Eagle’s 
aid when that task was undertaken. Because 
of the aid that we had furnished, our fence was 
still unbuilt. 


CHAPTEE X 


RALPH AND I GO BLACKBERRYING 

Chillen’s, dere’s lots ob blackberries on de 
hill above de w^eat freF,” Joe stopped to remark, 
as lie was about starting for the blacksmith shop 
with the reaper, the next morning. 

‘‘ They^ll have to stay there as far as I’m con- 
cerned,” returned Jessie, who was busily en- 
gaged in sewing up the gaping rents in Mr. 
Horton’s coat ; I haven’t time to gather 
them.” 

‘^Me do det ’em!” exclaimed Ealph, starting 
up from the floor, where he had been vainly 
frying to fasten some paper boots on Guard’s 
paws. Guard did not object, but, when a boot 
was, after much trouble, partially secured, he 
took it in his mouth and calmly pulled it ofl*. 
“Me do dit ’ackburries yite now,” reiterated 
Ealph. 

“ No,” said Jessie, “ Ealphie can’t go.” 

118 


RALPH AND I GO BLACKBERRYING 119 

Thus summarily enjoined, Ealpli began to 
roar, as a matter of course. Joe, who had 
already started to climb into the reaper seat, 
came back and looked in at the door, the better 
to look reproachfully at us. 

‘‘I do’an like dish yer sperrit ob money-get- 
tinV^ he declared, frowning. “ Denyin^ a little 
chile all his innercent pleasures fo de sake ob 
scrapin’ a few censes togedder !” he exclaimed 
severely. 

Jessie laughed, with a suspicious little catch 
in her voice ; it was hard to be misunderstood, 
if only by blundering, faithful old Joe. I 
really must not spare time to go with him, 
Joe,” she said in self-defense, but perhaps 
Leslie had better go. It will do you good, dear,” 
she added, mindful of my inexplicable paleness 
on the preceding day. 

“I don’t need being done good to, Jessie, but 
evidently Ralph does, so I’ll take him out,” I 
said, while old Joe nodded approvingly. 

Dat’s right ; dat’s right, honey, chile,” he 
declared, and again betook himself to the wait- 


120 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


iiig team and reaper. Freed from the danger 
of being compelled to wear boots, Guard bad 
gone outside and placed bimself by the door- 
step, where be was, to all aj^pearances, peace- 
fully dozing when Joe started. But, before the 
team bad turned the shoulder of the nearest 
bill, be arose, stretched bimself lazily, and 
trotted slowly down the road after them. 

Soon after Joe’s departure, Balpb and I, 
baskets in band, started for the blackberry 
patch. Ralph’s basket was a little toy candy 
pail, which be assured Jessie be should bring to 
her filled way up on ’e top wiv buriles.” The 
blackberry vines grew along the upper edge of 
the wheat field. We stopped when fairly above 
the field to admire the square of yellow grain 
spread out below us, the bended beads of wheat 
nodding and swaying in the light breeze, and 
the tall stalks now and then rippling in soft, 
undulating waves, as if a gentle wind had 
moved over a sea of gold. Next to the wheat 
stood the corn in file after file, the leaves rus- 
tling and the tasseled heads held bravely aloft. 


RALPH AND I GO BLACKBERRYING 121 


Green uniformed soldiers of peace and plenty 
they seemed to me, bidding defiance to want 
and famine. I might better say that I stopped 
to admire the grain fields, for Ralph had no 
sesthetic enthusiasm. His one desire was to 
reach the ‘‘ ’ackburry ” patch and begin stuffing 
them into that little red mouth of his. 

“ Turn on, ’Essie,’’ he said, tugging at my 
hand impatiently as I lingered. Me’s so 
hungry.” 

‘‘ Yes ; it must be half an hour at least since 
you had breakfast,” I replied unfeelingly, but 
turning my back on the fields nevertheless and 
hastening on. 

There were, as Joe had said, lots of black- 
berries, as we found on reaching the spot. I 
helped Ralpli to fill his little bucket and he 
trudged along at my side, eating steadfastly, 
but sometimes suspending even that fascinating 
employment to cling to my skirts and shrink 
closer to me as we came upon a particularly 
luxuriant cluster of vines. They were so tall 
and arched so high above his sunny little head. 


122 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


and the prickly vines extended away and away 
in vistas that must have seemed so endless to 
his small stature that it was no wonder if he felt 
somewhat overawed at times. 

We were well up on the hillside, and the fields 
below us Avere hidden from our view, when he 
suddenly announced that it was time to go home. 

Oh, no, Ralph,” I said, “ see, sister hasn’t 
got her basket nearly full yet. Here’s some 
nice large berries ; let me fill your bucket again.” 

“ No ; ’eys sour. Me don’t like ’ackburries 
any more !” 

‘‘ I don’t wonder !” I thought, recalling the 
number of times that I Imd fdled the small 
bucket, and he had emptied it, but I remained 
discreetly silent. The little fellow had been 
humored so much since father’s death — and, per- 
haps, before — that the moment he was opposed 
he cried, so now he began to whimper forlornly : 
‘‘ Me ’ants to do home, ’Essie !” 

“ What for, dear ?” 

‘‘ Me’s s’eejiy.” 

That appeared very probable, too, but I dis- 


RALPH AND I GO BLACKBERRYING 123 

liked to return with a half-filled bucket when 
the berries were so abundant and fairly begging 
to be picked. Looking around, inquiringly, I 
saw, under a clump of bushes at some little 
distance, an inviting carpet of cool green grass. 
Taking the child in my arms I carried him over 
and laid him down on the grass, putting my 
apron under his head for a pillow. “ There, 
Ralph, isn’t that nice ? I’ll stay right close by 
you and you can sleep here in the bushes like 
the little birds.” 

Ralph smiled sleepily, nestling his head 
closer into the impromptu pillow. ‘‘ ’ Ess,” he 
murmured drowsily, ’is nice ; now me is a 
yittle yay bird.” He meant no reflection on 
himself in the comparison. His acquaintance 
with jay birds was limited, but he recognized 
them when he met them, and considered them 
very good fellows. The cool breeze fan ned him ; 
the leaves rustled, their airy shadows playing 
over his face, and Ralph was sound asleep almost 
as soon as his drowsy eyes closed. I watched 
him for a moment and then hastened back to 


124 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


my chosen corner of the blackberry patch and 
resumed picking. 

Unconsciously, as I worked, I pressed in 
among the tall vines until at length the recum- 
bent little figure on the grass was quite hidden 
from sight. That did not really matter, for I 
was easily within call. No sound coming from 
that quarter I gradually became more and more 
absorbed in my task. It would be very nice, I 
thought, to carry a brimming bucket full of 
berries down to the house on my return. Once 
or twice I suspended operations to stand still 
and listen under the startled impression that I 
had heard some unusual noise. Convinced each 
time that there was nothing ; that I was mis- 
taken, I continued picking, but I remember that 
I did glance up once at the cloudless sky, won- 
dering, in an idle way, why I should have heard 
thunder. 

The bucket was quite full and I was backing 
carefully out from a thick cluster of canes, hav- 
ing a respectful regard for their sharp thorns, 
when, suddenly, the air was rent with a wild 


RALPH AND I GO BLACKBEPRYING 125 

shriek, coming from the direction of the grassy 
plot where I had left Ralph. Shriek after 
shriek followed. I had heard those high pierc- 
ing notes too many times to be left in an in- 
stant’s doubt ; the shrieks were his. Tearing 
my way out of the bushes, regardless now of 
thorns and scratches, I bounded into the open. 
The scene that presented itself, when I could 
get a view of what was going on, almost took 
away my breath. The entire hillside, and the 
fields below, were literally swarming with cattle. 
Not the tame domestic herds of peaceful Eastern 
meadows, but the wild, long-horned, compactly 
built, active, and peculiarly vicious beasts known 
in Western parlance as ‘‘ range stock.” 

Ralph had been awakened, none too soon, 
perhaps by the trampling of hoofs, perhaps by 
the low bellowing that I had absently attributed 
to unseen thunder clouds. However it was, he 
had started up, as he afterward sobbingly ex- 
pressed it, ‘‘ To make ’e bad tows do away, so ’ey 
not hurt ’Essie.” 

In pursuance of this design he had advanced 


126 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


toward the foremost of them, shouting and wav- 
ing his big straw hat in one hand, while attempt- 
ing to wave my apron in the other. The apron 
was long and he was short, and the effort to 
wave it in self-defense resulted in his becoming 
wound up in it, falling, and rolling bodily down 
the hillside, in the face of some half dozen wild- 
eyed steers, who were coming up it. It was then 
that he screamed, and I appeared on the scene 
at the very instant that one of the steers, awak- 
ening from what ajipeared to be a momentary 
trance of surprise, advanced toward the scream- 
ing little bundle, bellowing and pawing the 
ground. The immense black head, crowned 
with a pair of great horns, curving like a 
Turkish scimiter, and with a point as keen, was 
lowered ; the savage animal was on the very 
verge of charging on the helpless child, when 
my screams drew his attention toward me. He 
paused, lifted his head, stared at me, and, re- 
treating a step or two, began pawing the ground 
again, at the same time sending forth a hoarse 
challenge which seemed to proclaim his readi- 


RALPH AND I GO BLACKBERRYING 127 

ness to engage me and all my race in a hand to 
horn conflict if need be. His bit of bovine 
bravado had given me time to reach Ralph. I 
caught him up and thrust him behind me. 
Clutching my skirt tightly, he brought his scared 
little face into view for an instant to exhort me. 
‘‘ Don’t ’e be ’fraid, Essie, me knock ’e pie out 
o’ ’at bad tow if her touches ’oo!” Then he 
shrank back, creeping under the friendly shelter 
of the blackberry canes until he was, as I after- 
ward found, quite lost to view. It all took place 
so quickly that I had scarcely time to realize the 
danger before I was called upon to act. If I 
had turned to run, in the first instance, the great 
beast would have been upon me, and, in less 
time than it takes to tell it, I should have been 
ground and trampled out of human semblance. 
As I stood my ground he hesitated, challenged 
again, and, as others of the herd started toward 
him, charged. 

In spite of the signal service that it rendered 
me, I cannot conscientiously recommend a twelve- 
quart tin bucket, filled with blackberries, as a 


128 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


reliable weapon of defense. There would be 
only about one chance in a hundred, I should 
think, of its proving useful in just the way that 
mine did. When the steer charged I was, in 
fact, quite wild with terror ; it was instinct alone 
that prompted me to attempt a defensive use of 
any article in my hands, and if that article had 
been a feather duster I should have made the 
same use of it. The lowered head and sweep- 
ing horns were within six feet of me when I 
threw blackberries, pail and all, full in the 
creature’s face, at the same time giving frantic 
voice to the wild, high-pitched, long-drawn cry 
that the cow-boys use in rounding up their 
cattle. The blackberries did not trouble him ; 
what did trouble him was that, by one chance 
in a hundred, the handle or bail of the bucket 
caught on the tip of one horn, and, as feel- 
ing it and, perhaps, bewildered by the rattle 
of tinware, the steer threw up his head, the 
bucket slid down the horn, lodging against the 
skull, and wholly obscuring one eye. Un- 
daunted by this mishap the steer backed off. 


RALPH AND I GO BLACKBERRYING 129 

lifting his head high, shaking it and bellowing ; 
then suddenly he lowered it, grinding head and 
horns into the ground, with the evident intention 
of pulverizing the strange contrivance rattling 
about his forehead. The attempt resulted in his 
getting his nose into the trap where only a horn 
had been before. Maddened with fright he took 
to his heels, careering down the hillside, and 
through the fields at top speed, followed by all 
the herd. 

I had retreated, of course, the instant that I 
had discharged the bucket at my foe, and was 
cowering under the canes beside Ralph when the 
finale came. 


9 


CHAPTER XI 


THE CATTLE BRAND 

We were saved, bui; my heart swelled with 
grief and anger, as, creeping out from our 
shelter, I stood up and looked down on what 
had so lately been a field of waving grain, ripe 
for the harvest. 

Torn, tranipled, beaten into the earth, scarcely 
a stalk was left standing, and the corn field was 
in no better shape. Poor little Ralph, with a 
dim, childish comprehension of the calamity 
that had befallen us, was crying bitterly. Lift- 
ing him to my shoulder I started toward the 
house, the desolated fields were out of sight be- 
hind us, when Jessie came hurrying up the 
trail. 

“ What has happened ?” she inquired anx- 
iously. ‘‘I thought I heard Ralph scream, 
and I am sure I heard you giving the round-up 
call; I thought I heard cattle, too.’’ She took 
130 


THE CATTLE BRAND 


131 


Ralph, who was still crying, from my shoulder 
and carried him in her arms. ‘‘Don’t cry, 
precious,” she said. “ Tell sister what has 
frightened you ?” 

“ ’Essie frowed all ’e ’ackburries at ’e bad 
tow, an’ ’e bad tows walked all over our pitty torn 
’talks, so ’ey don’t ’tan’ up no more,” he sobbed 
incoherently. Jessie looked at me with dilating 
eyes. We were by this time entering the house, 
where I was not surprised to find Mrs. Horton 
again awaiting us, for I had already observed 
the Horton equipage in the front yard. 

“ Leslie !” Jessie was exclaiming, as we crossed 
the threshold. “ Don’t tell me that the cattle 
have been in our fields ; it isn’t possible !” 

“ I guess it is,” I said recklessly, unreason- 
ably resenting our neighbor’s placid face. “ If 
you find it hard to believe, just go and look for 
yourself. There isn’t a stalk of grain left 
standing,” and I proceeded to give the details of 
my late adventure and experience. 

Jessie seemed like one dazed. She sank into a 
chair, holding Ralph, wlio was willing, for once, 


132 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


to be held, tightly in her arms, and spoke never 
a word. 

‘‘ What I want to know,’’ cried Mrs. Horton, 
her face fiery with indignation, is, whose cattle 
were they ? It’s a low shameful, mean, trick ; 
I don’t care who did it ! Oh, to think of all 
you’ve had to suffer, and of all that those fields 
of grain stood for to you, and the^n to think — I 
don’t feel as if I could hear it !” she broke off, 
abruptly, her voice choking. I, avoiding her 
eyes, looked out of the window through which 
I saw, indeed, only the trampled fields, invisible 
to any but the mind’s eye from that window. 

“I hope you can collect damages,” Mrs. 
Horton broke out again ; ‘‘ and I guess you can 
if you can prove the ownership of the cattle. 
Did you notice the brand ?” 

Feigning not to have heard the question, I 
still gazed silently out of the window, but Mrs. 
Horton was not to be put off so easily ; she re- 
peated the inquiry, her voice suddenly grown 
sharp with anxiety. Did you notice the brand, 
Leslie?” 


THE CATTLE BKAND 


133 


“Well r 

She would not be put off, and, for a wicked 
moment, my heart was hot against all that bore 
her husband’s name. 

“ The brand was, ‘ R, half-circle. A,’ ” I said, 
and bolted out of the house to hide myself and 
my boiling indignation in the hayloft, but, as I 
went, I heard Mrs. Horton sobbing out an ex- 
planation to Jessie : 

“Jake started out early this morning, long 
before sun-up, it was, to drive the cattle from 
the upper range to the north pasture — he said. 
I told him I was afraid that he couldn’t handle 
such a big bunch alone — there’s nigh three 
thousand of them, if there’s a dozen — but he 
thought that he could, and they must have got 
away from him after all !” 

Jessie made no comment, but lying at full 
length in the seclusion of the hayloft, I thought 
of the relative j^ositions of the upper range, where 
Mr. Horton’s cattle usually grazed, and the north 
j)asture, and knew that, in order to reach our 


134 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


fields, the herd must have strayed ” at least 
five miles out of their proper course. 

I was still lying in the hayloft when, as my 
ears informed me, Mrs. Horton came out, climbed 
soberly into her wagon, and drove away. With 
my eyes shut I still seemed to see her drooping 
head and shamed face. I had so far recovered 
my reason by this time that I could feel for her ; 
she believed in her husband. He would soon 
be able to convince her that what had occurred 
was due to an unavoidable accident ; the cattle 
had broken away from their one herder, and 
she would expend her indignation on the fact 
that he had attempted to drive them alone, and 
— she would try to make him pay damages. 
She would fail. One did not need an intimate 
acquaintance with her husband to know that. 

The sound of approaching wheels aroused me 
from my unhappy meditations. Joe was re- 
turning. I sprang up, slid down the ladder, and 
went out into the yard to meet him. Mr. Wilson, 
the ranchman, who was to be one of our wit- 
nesses, was with him, Joe had found him at 


THE CATTLE BRAND 


135 


the blacksmith shop, and, as his homeward route 
led past our house, had invited him to ride with 
him. The two were talking earnestly as the 
horses stopped before the barn door. Mr. Wilson 
had been away from home for some weeks, and 
we had been somewhat worried lest he should 
not return in time for our proving up. Evi- 
dently Joe had just been telling him this, for, as I 
came near them, he was saying in his hearty 
way : “ No, sir ; your young ladies needn’t ’a’ 
been a mite worried for fear of my not getting 
around in time. I was bound to come when 
they wanted me, and wife’s been keeping me 
posted about their notice. I told her I’d leave 
whatever I had on hand and come in time, 
Avhether or no.” He was a large man. Joe 
had resigned the reaper seat to him and had 
ridden home himself standing on one of the 
cross-bars. He was slowly and cautiously back- 
ing down from the high seat as I stopped beside 
the reaper. Wlien his feet were fairly on the 
ground he turned to greet me : Why, what’s 
been happening to you, little girl? Joe, you 


13G 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


didn’t tell me that one of your young ladies was 
sick !” 

Joe had begun unharnessing the team ; he 
was tying up the lines, but dropped them as Mr. 
Wilson sj^oke, and came around to my side ; 
just then, too, Jessie joined us; she stood with 
one hand on old Joe’s shoulder, while I again 
told of the incursion of cattle on our fields. I 
think that she feared some terrible outburst of 
rage from the old man who had toiled so faith- 
fully in those fields, and had taken such honest 
pride in the rich promise of an abundant har- 
vest. If so, her fears were groundless. Joe’s 
sole remark, as he went on with the work of 
caring for the horses, was : 

‘‘ Mought jess as well a’ spared de trouble ob 
gettin’ de reaper fixed, hit ’pears.” 

Instinctively, I felt that he was so sure, he 
understood so well by whose agency the ruin 
had been wrought that he disdained to ask a 
question. What had taken place was simply a 
thing to be borne, like martyrdom. 

But Mr. Wilson was not committed to a policy 


THE CATTLE BRAND 


137 


of silence ; he had a good deal to say, and what 
he said was directly to the point. 

“ Crops plumb ruined, you say. Miss Leslie?^’ 

‘‘ Oh, yes ; entirely ; I think the whole herd 
must have been there; not feeding quietly so 
much as tearing through — ” 

‘‘ You say the whole herd ? Know of any 
herd, now, that you could spot ?’’ 

“ It was Mr. Horton’s herd ; we all know his 
brand.” 

‘‘ R, half-circle, A ; yes. Now, young folks,” 
— he paused to roll his eyes impressively from 
one to the other of us — ‘‘ I’ll tell you what you 
want to do about this affair. You want to keep 
still ; to keep still !” 

And be ruined !” cried Jessie, her eyes 
flashing. 

‘‘And not be ruined ! There’s where the fun’s 
going to come in. Miss Jessie. ’Spose you go 
to work now to try to prove malicious mischief 
on the part of Horton in driving his cattle into 
your fields, for that’s what he’s deliberately 
done, no doubt of that, why all he’s got to do 


138 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


is to take his stand on the law and say that you 
had no business to sow grain on the range and 
expect cattle to keep out of it ; j^ouVe no title 
to this j)lace, and your grain fields are not even 
fenced. Horton’s got the law on his side, you 
may be sure of that, but he hasn’t got the right, 
and some day he’ll find it out ; he’ll find it out 
to his cost, no matter what the law says, now 
you mark my words !” 

There hasn’t been a year since we’ve been 
here that Mr. Horton’s cattle — always Mr. Hor- 
ton’s cattle — haven’t destroyed our crops,” 
Jessie said, her voice trembling. 

‘^And it has always been an ‘accident,’ ” I 
added, “ but I did think that maybe there Avould 
be no such accident this year ; it couldn’t have 
occurred at a time when it would be more effec- 
tive.” 

“ No, you may count on that; that’s just the 
reason why it hasn’t taken place before this. 
Now, the rest of us folks around here don’t pro- 
pose to see you two girls and that purty little 
orphan boy drove off of this place that you’ve 


THE CATTLE BRAND 


139 


tried so hard and so bravely to keep, but weVe 
all got to sing low until you get your title. 
Then, Mr. Man, let that — well, I won’t call 
names — -just let Mr. Horton try bis little games 
and lie’ll find that there are laws that will fit 
bis case. The reasons that that man hasn’t 
landed in the penitentiary before this are, first, 
that the Lord was mighty lenient toward him 
when be went a courtin’ and induced that good 
woman to become bis wife ; second, he’s so sly. 
There’s never been a time yet when a body 
could produce direct, damaging evidence against 
him. It’s all ‘ accident.’ ” 

I thought of that small shining object that I 
bad picked up in the rubbish the morning after 
the fire was set under our window. It would 
have been hard, indeed, to produce more dam- 
aging or convincing evidence than that, but Mr. 
Wilson had just been enjoining a strict silence 
in regard to Mr. Horton and his works upon us, 
so I kepttlie thought to myself. 

“Your father was a good man,” Mr. Wilson 
continued. He had one big advantage over 


140 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


Horton from the start — he was able to hold both 
his tongue and his temper even when Horton, by 
his acts, kept him so short-handed that he was 
unable to build the fence that would have saved 
his crops and so helped to defeat Horton. The 
fencing will cost about three hundred dollars. 
When I sold off that big bunch of steers, two 
years ago, I offered to lend him money to fence 
his claim, but, no sir, he wouldnh touch a cent 
— seemed to have a kind of prejudice agin’ bor- 
rowing money, even of me. Another thing 
about Horton is,” went on our friend, who 
seemed to have made an exhaustive study of his 
subject, that he must brag about what he’s go- 
ing to do before he does it. That’s how every 
one knows, in reason, that he is the one who has 
made you all this trouble. He hasn’t scrupled 
to say that he’s bound to have this place, by 
hook or by crook, whatever happens — and so lie 
looks out for it that things happen. But there 
is one thing that I will say for him, and it’s kind 
of curious, too — let him once be fairly and 
squarely beaten, so that there’s no way but for 


THE CATTLE BRAND 


141 


him to own up to it, and you needn^t ask for a 
better or more faithful friend than he is ; but 
he’s like — ” Mr. Wilson lifted his hat and 
scratched his grizzled head, casting about for a 
simile ; his eye fell on Guard. Why, he’s 
like a bull-dog, you might say — he’ll hang on 
until beaten, and then he’s yours to command 
ever after.” 

Jessie was greatly cast down ; she looked at 
Guard and accepted the simile mournfully. 

‘‘ There’s no hope of our ever being able to 
do anything that will make him admit himself 
beaten,” she said, so, I suppose, we must resign 
ourselves to enduring his enmity as best we 
can.” 

‘‘I ain’t calculating on his keeping up this 
racket after you get your title,” Mr. Wilson 
declared, hopefully ; ‘‘ he’s dead set on getting 
this land now. He's made his brags that he 
would have it, but when it’s once passed out of 
his reach, he’ll kind of tame down, I’m thinking. 
Now, about your fences,” he continued, with a 
sudden, cheery change of tone : ‘‘ they’re going 


142 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


up. Don’t you woiuy about the loss of your 
crop, but Joe, you just whirl in and go to 
plowing those fields again for fall wheat ; noth- 
ing better for raising money on than fall wheat ; 
and by the time it’s sprouted, we’ll have 
it fenced, snug and tight ; we will, if I have to 
mortgage my farm to do it ! But I shan’t have 
to do that. I can raise the money for you 
somehow.” 

Jessie was sitting on the wagon-tongue. 
She looked gratefully u]) into the ranchman’s 
weather-beaten face. 

I think you’re just awful good, Mr. Wilson, 
but — would it be right for us to let you lend us 
the money when we know how opposed poor 
father was to anything of that kind ?” 

This was a vital question. I leaned forward, 
awaiting the answer, while Jessie listened with 
parted lips, as she might if our good neighbor 
had been some ancient oracle, whose lightest 
word was law. Mr. Wilson regarded us stead- 
fastly for a moment, then scratched his head 
again. 


THE CATTLE BRAND 


143 


Well/^ lie said slowly, at last, I s^pose, set- 
ting aside all questions of circumstances, that 
when the Bible said : ‘ Honor thy father and thy 
mother in the days of thy youth,’ it meant to 
reach clean down to the things that your parents 
wanted you to do — or not to do — whether they 
was alive to see it done or not. I do s’pose that 
that was what it means, and your father he was 
sure set against borrowing.” 

Stooping, he picked up a straw, and began 
biting it meditatively, while we two pondered 
his plain interpretation of a very plain text. 
Suddenly he dropped the straw, and looked at 
us with a brightening face : 

Why, say, you can give a mortgage on your 
own land, when you get your title, and your 
father, nor the Bible, nor nobody else, would say 
there was anything wrong in your neighbor’s 
helping you out, if so be that you couldn’t lift 
the mortgage when the time come. Not that 
there’ll be any danger of that, with the price 
that wheat always brings in this grazing 
country.” 


144 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


He went away shortly after, leaving us much 
comforted. Joe had housed the un-needed 
reaper in the shed and was examining the plow 
before he had been gone an hour. Some bolts 
needed tightening and Jessie offered her services 
as assistant. 

“ We’ll get ahead of Mr. Horton yet !” she 
exclaimed, hammering away at the head of the 
bolt that she was manipulating', under J oe’s di- 
rection, as vigorously as though it might have 
been the head of the gentleman in question. 


CHAPTER XII 


ON THE TKATL OF A WILDCAT 

Joe went at the plowing the next morning 
and kept at it with dogged perseverance for sev- 
eral days. Jessie and I, busy with the sewing, 
at first paid little attention to him, but after a 
few days the look of settled exasperation on his 
sable countenance, as he returned to the house 
at the close of his day’s work, drew my atten- 
tion. 

“ Joe,” I said to him one morning, as he was 
about starting for the field, ‘‘ what is the matter ? 
You look discouraged.” 

‘‘ I ain’ discouraged, so my looks is deceivin’, 
den ; but I is kine o’ wore out in my patience.” 

“ Why ; what about ?” 

‘‘ Hit’s dat ’ar Frank horse ; nothin’ gwine 
ter do him, but he mus’ stop in de furrer, ebbery 
few ya’ahds, an’ tun aroun’ in de ha’ness ter look 
at me. ’Pears like he can’ be satisfy dat I 
10 145 


14G 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


knows my own business, but lie^s got to obersee 
hit. Hit done gets mighty worrisome afore de 
day’s out,” he concluded with a heavy sigh. 

Why don’t you whip him for it ?” demanded 
Jessie indignantly. 

‘‘ W’ip nuffin’ ! Hes a saddle hoss ; he’s 
nebber been call’ on fer to do such wuck afore, 
an’ he doan know what hit means.” 

I guess if he attended to his business he’d 
find out in time,” Jessie insisted. But Frank, 
whatever other faults he had, had none under 
the saddle ; he was, moreover, old Joe’s especial 
2^et. One of the work horses had died during 
the 2) receding winter, which was the reason that 
this one was called u2)on to 2)erform labor that 
he evidently regarded with distrust, if not active 
disap2)roval. 

So now the old man re2)lied to Jessie’s obser- 
vation with unusual shar[)ness : 

De whole work is plum’ full ob plow bosses, 
so fur’s I kin see. Yo’ done meets ’em on de 
road, and in de chu’ch and de town meetin’s, 
and on de ranches ; yes, sir ; yo’ kin fine a plow 


ON THE TRAIL OP A WILDCAT 147 

hoss twenty times a day where yo’ meets U23 wid 
a saddle boss once in six months w^at is a saddle 
hoss, and not a saw-hoss wif a bridle on. Ef 
somebody’s got fer to poun’ dat Frank fer to 
make him drag a plow aroun’, hit’ll be some- 
body odder dan me w’at does hit ! I done cut 
dem wicked ole clumsy blinders, w’at is a relict 
ob ba’barism, ef dere ebber was one, offen his 
bridle, so’st dem bright eyes ob his’n kin see 
w’ats goin’ on erroun’ him, an’ now I ain’ gwine 
spile a good saddle hoss ter make a poor plow 
hoss. Hit’s too much like tryin’ ter make a 
eagle inter a tame ole goose,” the old man con- 
cluded soberly. 

Well, then, I suppose we’ll have to give up 
the fall j)lowing, just on account of Frank’s 
whims!” Jessie retorted, nettled. 

‘‘ No,” Joe returned jiatiently ; “ I’se done 
gwine ter keep at hit, we’s get hit done some- 
how ; if not dis year, den de nex’. I ’clar fur hit, 
sometimes I done been tempted fur t’ hitch one 
ob de cow beasts up along o’ Bill an’ tryin’ de 
plowin’ dat way.” 


148 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


‘‘ Isn’t there some way of making Frank keep 
straight without whipping him ?” I asked, my 
sympathies being about equally divided between 
man and horse. 

‘‘ Oh, yes ! I done thought a hun’nerd times 
dat ef dere was only some small, active boy w’at 
would ride him whilst I — ” 

I sprang to my feet, tossing aside the pieces 
of gingham that were destined to form a new 
shirt for Mr. Horton : ‘‘ Here am I, Joe, take 

me !” 

‘‘ You !” Joe’s mild eyes looked me over, and 
gleamed approvingly. “You is little, you is 
active, an’ yo’ has de bravest heart, and de un- 
selfishest sperret — ” he said, half soliloquizing, 
until I interposed, laughingly : 

“ Come, now ! Stop calling me names and say 
that I’ll do!” 

“Dat yo’ will, honey, chile, but I nebber 
thought ob askin’ yo’ to do sech wuck as dat! 
Hit ain’ fittin’ nohow !” 

“ Fitting ! Anything is fitting that is honest, 
and will help us out, Joe. Still, I am rather glad 


ON THE TRAIL OF A WILDCAT 


149 


that the fields are quite out of sight from the 
road/’ 

“ Dat’s w’at dey is. Come on, den. Frank 
gwine wuck like a hero, now, ’cause he done 
think hit’s saddle wuck w’at he’s a doin’.” 

And I’ll work all the harder at the sewing,” 
Jessie said, smiling approval of this novel ar- 
rangement, and hastily rescuing Mr. Horton’s 
unfinished shirt from Guard, who had been try- 
ing to utilize it for a bed. There, now, see 
that !” she added, looking at me reproachfully. 

How could you be so careless, Leslie ? Guard 
has been lying on Mr. Horton’s new shirt !” 

It is new, and Mr. Horton has never worn 
it, so I don’t think it will contaminate Guard,” 
I retorted, perversely, as I turned to follow Joe, 
who had already started for the fields. 

With me perched upon his back, the long, 
awkward, pulling lines discarded, and his move- 
ments directed by a gentle touch of the bridle 
reins against the side of his neck, Frank worked, 
as Joe had said he would, like a hero. The 
other horse, being of a meek and quiet spirit. 


150 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


had made no trouble from the outset ; he was 
content to follow Frank’s lead, so we got on 
famously with the plowing from the day that I 
was installed as postillion. 

“ I always supposed that plowing was such a 
monotonous kind of business,” I remarked to 
Joe one day, taking advantage of the oj^por- 
tunity offered by his stopping the team to wipe 
away the perspiration that was streaming down 
my face. For the day was very warm, and we 
had been working steadily. 

If mon’tonus means hot, honey chile, I 
reckons yo’s right,” responded Joe. ‘‘ Yo’s 
purty face is a sight to behole ; red as a turkey 
cock’s comb, hit is, an’ dat streaked wif dirt dat 
dey doan miffin’ show natteral but yo’ eyes.” 

One good thing, Joe, I can’t look any 
dirtier than I feel,” I replied wearily, and with 
a longing glance toward the river that rippled 
silver-white and cool at the foot of the hill be- 
neath us. Joe saw the glance. 

Hoi’ on, honey,” he exclaimed, as I was 
about starting the team again. Here’s de lines 




! 

j 


WE GOT ON FAMOUSLY WITH THE PLOUGHING 

(Page 150) 








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I 


ON THE TRAIL OF A WILDCAT 


151 


looped up on the back band ; I’ll jess run ’em 
out an’ finish up dish yer bit alone.” 

“ Do you think you can ?” I asked, wavering 
between a longing to rest and my sense of duty. 

‘‘ T’ink I kin ? Dat’s good, now.! Yo’ run 
along down to de ribber an’ hab a good paddle 
afore hit gits too late.” 

Accordingly I slid oft’ of Frank’s back while 
Joe, gathering in the slack of the lines, clucked 
encouragingly to him to go on. Instead of do- 
ing that the horse wheeled around in the furrow 
until he had brought my retreating figure into 
view, then stoj)ped and gazed inquiringly after 
me. 

Joe,” I called back, halting, maybe I’d 
better not leave.” 

Yo’ jess run right erlong. Miss Leslie, honey ; 
dis boss gwine ter go all right jess soon’s he 
make up he mine whar yo’ is gwine.” 

Glancing back again presently,'* I found that 
Joe was right. Frank was working with prom- 
ising sedateness. 

It was deliciously cool down underneath the 


152 TWO WYOMING GIRLS 

shadow of the cliff, on the banks of the shallow, 
bright river. Guard had followed me from the 
field ; he, too, enjoyed the cool water and pro- 
ceeded to make the most of it. After I had 
bathed my hot face and hands I sat on the bank 
and watched him as he splashed about, making 
sudden, futile darts at the tiny fish that swarmed 
around him when he was quiet, and went scur- 
rying away like chaff before the wind, the in- 
stant that he moved. I had just risen to my 
feet, intending to start to the house, when Guard 
suddenly sprang out of the water with a growl. 
At the same instant the direful squawking 
of a frightened chicken broke on my ears. The 
squawking, close at hand at first, receded rap- 
idly. Evidently some animal had caught one 
of our flock of poultry and was making off with 
its prize. 

There was a wildness of rocks and gnarled 
cedar trees on the steep mountain slope above 
us, just beyond the bend in the river, and to- 
ward this wild quarter, judging by the outcries 
— fast lessening in the distance — the animal, 


ON THE TRAIL OF A WILDCAT 


153 


whatever it might be, was bearing its prey. I 
was drenched with a shower of water drops as 
Guard shot past me, taking the trail with an 
eager yelp, while I, no less eager, and with 
as little reflection, ran after him. The dog 
had cleared the underbrush on the river 
bank, as I rushed out, and was racing across 
the little interval, or clear space between 
the river bank and the first jumble of rocks 
where the abrupt rise of the mountain slope 
began. Just in front of him, so close it seemed 
the next leap would surely enable him to seize 
the creature, glided, rather than ran, so swift 
and stealthy was the motion, some large animal, 
bearing a white chicken in its mouth. A tiny 
trail of white feathers drifted backward as 
the animal ran, while the helpless white wings 
beat the air frantically on either side of the 
unyielding jaws. 

The poor chick might be badly hurt, but it 
could still squawk and struggle. Indignation 
gave me renewed strength. I ran forward, 
shouting, Sic him. Guard, sic him !’’ and the 


154 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


next instant my foot caught under a projecting 
root and I fell headlong to the ground. It 
really seemed for a blank s|)ace as if my fall 
must have jarred the earth. There was a whirl- 
ing dance of stars all about my head ; the 
ground rolled and heaved underneath me ; sky, 
earth, and trees swam together, joining that 
whirling dance of stars. It must have been a 
full minute before I was able to sit up and 
weakly wonder what had happened. It all came 
back to me as a cold, moist nose touched my 
hand and a sympathetic whimper broke the 
silence. I turned on Guard reproachfully. 

‘‘ Why did you leave that thing to come back 
to me, sir ? You could have caught it if you 
had kept right on after it, and you might have 
known IM get along all right without your help. 
Now, do you go and find it, sir!’’ and I pointed 
imperatively, if rather vaguely, towards the jum- 
ble of rocks. The chicken’s cries had ceased ; 
there was now nothing to guide the dog, even if 
he understood, which I, having great faith in 
his intelligence, believed he did. He ran along 


ON THE TRAIL OF A WILDCAT 155 


the trail for a few yards, stopped, gave a joyful 
bark, and came running back to me with a stick 
in his mouth. 

I had been trying to teach him to retrieve, 
and my order, go find it,^’ suggested that pas- 
time to him. When he laid the stick at my 
feet, wagging his tail and looking up in hopeful 
anticipation of the praise that he felt to be his 
due, I could not find it in my heart to withhold 
it. Besides, the chicken thief was, no doubt, 
safe in his lair at this time, so, abandoning the 
hopeless pursuit, we made our way homeward. 

When Joe came in, and I related our ad- 
venture to him, he said: Yo’ may t’ank yo’ 
sta’hs. Miss Leslie, dat yo’ done got dat tumble 
w’en yo’ did! Dat feller wif de black coat, 
trimmed in yeller, was a lynx — dat’s liisifs 
dress ebbery time — an’ I’d ’a’ heap rudder 
meet up wif a mountain lion, any day, dan 
one ’o’ dem ar I Land, chile ! Ef hit had ’a’ 
been me, down dar by de ribber, I’d ’a’ belt 
Guard to keep him still, an’ I’d ’a’ kep’ out o’ 
sight. Dat’s w’at I’d ’a’ done, honey.” 


156 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


‘‘Do you recollect, Leslie,’’ Jessie chimed 
in, “ what Mrs. Loyd told us about her encounter 
with a lynx, last year ? She said that she was 
in the house one day, when she heard a great 
outcry among her chickens, right close at hand, 
in the yard. She ran to the door, and t^'cre 
was a great lynx, chasing the chickens around. 
The minute the door was opened, they ran to- 
ward it, and into the house. The lynx was 
right behind them, but it stopped as the chick- 
ens crowded around her, and she seized the 
broom and struck at it. Instead of running, it 
stood its ground and showed its teeth, bristling 
up and growling. She dropped the broom and 
sprang into the house, slamming the door shut 
just as the lynx hurled itself against it. She 
said that she was almost scared to death. She 
locked the door, and scrambled ujy into the loft 
— she said that she was afraid the cat would 
take a notion to break in at one of the windows — 
and the creature stayed outside and killed 
chickens as long as he j)leased, while she stayed 
up there, trembling, until her husband came 


ON THE TRAIL OF A WILDCAT 157 

home. She said that the next time a bob-cat 
wanted one of her cliickens it could have it, for 
all of her.” 

“ I would hate to have Guard get hurt,” I 
said, looking affectionately at our follower. 


CHAPTER XIII 


JOE DISAPPEARS 

The plowing was done — ^had been done for 
some days, indeed — and the* time set for our 
offering final proof was close at hand. But 
Jessie and I, going about our household tasks 
with sober faces, had hardly a word to say to 
each other. 

We had looked forward to this coming day 
with such eager expectation, but now that it was 
so near, we shrank with dread from facing it. 
A trouble so great as, under the circumstances, 
to deserve to be ranked as a calamity, had be- 
fallen us. Joe was gone. He had left us with- 
out a sign, at the time, of all others in our whole 
lives, when we most needed him. On the even- 
ing of the day that the plowing was done he 
had retired, as usual, to his little room off the 
kitchen, and when we awoke in the morning he 
was gone. That was all. But it was enough. 


JOE DISAPPEARS 


159 


It was a fact that seemed to darken our whole 
world. It was not alone that we missed his 
help; we had believed in his fidelity as one 
believes in the fidelity of a mother, and he had 
left us without a word of explanation or regret. 

The subject was so jiainful that, by tacit con- 
sent, we both avoided it. It would have been 
better, I think, to have expressed our views 
freely, for, as we could dwell on nothing else, 
we seldom spoke at all, and that added to the 
gloom of the situation. 

Joe had been gone several days, and we had 
been silently struggling in the Slough of 
Despond, when I awoke one morning filled with 
a new and ardent resolution, which I proceeded 
to carry into instant execution. 

Jessie was always the first one up. I heard 
her moving about in the kitchen, and, making 
a hasty toilet, joined her there. She was 
grinding coffee in the mill that was fastened 
securely to the door-jamb. It was, I believe, 
the noisiest mill in existence; its resonant 
whi-r-rr was like that of some giant grist-mill. 


160 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


Jessie suspended operations as I drew near to 
remark : 

You’re up early, Leslie.” 

“ Yes ; I’ve thought of something, and — ” 

‘‘ It’s the early thought that is caught, same’s 
the early worm,” my sister remarked, unfeel- 
ingly. Then she added : “ Excuse me a minute, 
Leslie, I must get this coffee ground, and can’t 
talk against the mill.” 

When the coffee was in the pot on the stove, 
she turned to me again : 

“ Now what have you thought of that is so 
wonderful ?” 

“It isn’t wonderful, Jessie. It’s sensible.” 

“ It amounts to the same thing.” 

“ Not in this case. First, I think we ought 
to stop grieving over Joe’s desertion.” 

Jessie’s bright face clouded instantly : 

“ It is cruel !” she protested. 

“ I don’t feel as if we ought to say that, Jessie. 
Joe has been a good, true, faithful friend to us, 
and he loved father ; we, ourselves, loved father 
no more than Joe did — ” 


JOE DISAPPEAES 


161 


Why, Leslie !” 

It is true, Jessie. I feel it, someway, and I 
am not going to blame Joe any more ; not even 
in my own thoughts. It does no good, and it 
makes us very unhappy. Let^s try to be cheer- 
ful again, Jessie, and make the best of it.” 

‘‘We must make the best of it whether we 
are cheerful or not.” 

“ Very well, then ; one of the first things that 
we must do, if we are to depend on our own 
efforts, is to market that cantaloupe crop.” 

“ What, you and I, Leslie?” Jessie sat down 
with the bread knife in one hand and a loaf of 
bread in the other, the better to consider this 
proposition. 

“ Just you and I, Jessie. We cannot afford to 
hire an agent, supposing that one was to be had 
for the hiring, which is by no means likely. 
WeVe been eating the melons for days ; they are 
just in their prime, and I know that Joe counted 
on making quite a little sum on his cantaloupe 
crop, but if we wait now, hoping for his return, the 
melons will be ruined ; they will be a total loss.” 

11 


1G2 


TWO WYOMING GlULS 


You needn’t offer any more arguments, 
Leslie. I’m glad you thought of it ; it’s a pity 
that I never think of any such thing myself 
until the procession has gone by. Now let me 
see, have I got your morning thoughts in order ? 
First, Charity. Toward Joe. Second, Resigna- 
tion — all capitals — Toward Joe. Third, Labor. 
For ourselves. Is that right? 

‘‘Yes; if you like to put it that way.” 

“ You shall have it any way you please, Leslie 
dear, and I will help you.” 

“ After breakfast, then, we will harness uj) the 
team and drive the wagon into the melon patch, 
then — we will fill it.” 

“ Yes, and what then ?” 

It was like taking a plunge into cold water. 
I am sure that I was not intended for a huckster, 
but I manag to resj)ond with some show of 
courage : 

“Why, then I will drive over to the store and 
sell what I can, and then I will go about among 
the neighbors with the rest.” 

“ Will you ?” Jessie breathed a sigh of relief. 


JOE DISAPPEARS 


163 


“That will be enterprising, anyway. I should 
dreadfully hate to drive about peddling melons 
myself, but there^s such a difference in people 
about things of that sort.” 

Jessie is so exasperatingly prosaic, at times, 
that she makes me feel either like crying, or like 
shaking her. On this occasion I was fortu- 
nately hindered from doing either by Kalp]i,who 
suddenly appeared, demanding to be “ dwessed.” 
After breakfast we harnessed the horses — we 
could either of us do that as well, and quicker 
than Joe — ^then we drove into the enclosure 
where the olive-tinted little spheres lay thick on 
the ground and proceeded to fill the wagon-box. 
The patch was small, but the melons grew in 
great profusion, and it did not take long. With- 
in a couple of hours I was traveling along the 
highway, jierched upon the high spring seat of 
the wagon-box, with Guard beside me. Guard 
was, according to my idea, very good company, and 
it was, moreover, desirable that he should learn to 
ride in a wagon and to conduct himself properly 
while doing so. It was a very warm morning and 


164 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


as the sweet, cloying odor of my wagon load of 
produce assailed my nostrils, I could not but 
think of the famous couplet, You may break, 
you may shatter the vase if you will, but the scent 
of the roses will hang round it still My route 
through the settlement might be traced, I 
fancied, by the fragrance that the melons ex- 
haled. 

My first stop was at the store where I disposed 
of a satisfactory quantity of melons, but after 
leaving the store the business dragged wearily, 
and I found myself obliged to take promises to 
pay in lieu of money from the women of the 
household when the masculine head chanced to 
be absent. They always explained, quite as a 
matter of course, that ‘‘ he ” had left no money 
with them. It appeared to me, as I patiently 
booked one promise after another, that “ he ’’ 
could not have kept hired help very long if 
their wages consisted of notliing more tangible — 
after the matter of food and lodging was elimi- 
nated — than those that fell to the lot of “ his ’’ 
womenfolk. I had observed, with some annoy- 


JOE DISAPPEARS 


165 


ance, when I first started out, that one of the 
wagon wheels had a tendency to make plaintive 
little protests, as if it objected to being put to 
any use. I could by no means fathom the 
reason for it, but by mid-afternoon the protest 
had grown into a piercing shriek. A shriek 
that even Guard shrank from with an indig- 
nant growl. 

Less than one-fourth of my load yet remained 
unsold. I was most anxious to clear it all out, 
but that ear-piercing sound was becoming mad- 
dening. ‘‘The wagon must be conjured,” I 
thought, recalling some of Joe^s fancies. Coming 
to a place at last, where two roads met, I halted 
the team and sat considering the question of a 
return home or a trip to Crusoe, which j)lace I 
had not yet visited, when the sight of a horse- 
man far down the left-hand road decided me to 
go in that direction. The horseman was v/ell 
mounted and going at a good pace. “ I don’t 
care !” I told myself, recklessly, “ I’m going to 
overtake him and make him take some of these 
melons if I have to pay him for doing it.” 


166 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


But there was no occasion for my hurrying 
the horses. When the man on ahead caught 
the sound of my rapidly-advancing shriek he 
prom^itly drew up beside the roadway and 
awaited my approach, and then I saw that the 
rider was Mr. Butledge. He recognized me at 
the same moment and exclaimed : 

“ Why, Miss Leslie, is that you ?” 

‘‘Yes,’’ I said, meekly, but I felt my face 
grow red, and was conscious, in spite of my good 
resolutions, of a sudden resentment against Joe. 
Why had he left me to do such work as this ? 

Mr. Rutledge, drawing close to the wagon, 
ran an inquiring eye over my merchandise. 

“ Been buying melons?” he asked, adding: “ I 
didn’t know that there was anything of the kind 
for sale in the valley.” 

The observation did not seem to require an 
answer, and I was silent while he reached into 
the box and selected one of the smaller melons 
and held it up laughingly, as if defying me to 
retake it. 

“ Findings is keepings !” he said, gayly. 





HE DREW UP BESIDE THE ROADWAY 
(Page i66) 



JOE DISAPPEAKS 


167 


Also, pilferings,’’ I returned, triumphantly. 
After all, I should not be compelled either to 
urge a sale or to offer a bribe. 

Call it pilfering if you have the face to, but 
in return for this bit of refreshment I am going 
to give you some advice.^’ 

‘‘AVell?” 

The next time that you take your colored 
attache’s place as teamster, make sure that he 
has greased your wagon wheels. You may not 
have observed it, but their j^^'otests against 
moving are simply diabolical.” 

‘‘Oh, is that what causes that noise?” I 
asked, leaning down from the seat the better to 
j)eer at the wheels in question. 

“ Certainly ; Joe should not have allowed you 
to go out with them in such shape.” 

The laughter had died out of my heartland 
my voice, but a stubborn, foolish pride held my 
tongue. I could not tell the mining superin- 
tendent, who would have been one of the best of 
customers, that the melons were for sale, or that 
Joe had left us. “ If I tell him that J oe is gone,” 


168 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


ran my foolish thought, he will understand 
that I am peddling melons.’’ Gathering up the 
lines, I started the horses quickly, lest he 
should ask where I got my load. Mr. Rutledge 
drew his horse aside, waiting for me to pass. 

Be sure to tell Joe about the wheels, when 
you see him !” he called after me, as the com- 
plaining shriek again rent the air. 

“ Yes,” I returned, I will and added to 
myself : ‘‘ When I see him.” 

In my anxiety to escape questioning I had 
forgotten that a person who is riding in a wagon 
whose wheels need oiling cannot shake off a 
well-mounted horseman so easily. Underneath 
the weird outcry of the wheels the steady 
pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat of the black horse’s hoofs 
came to my ears, and I glanced back to see 
Mr. Rutledge close to the hind wheel. Unless 
he stopped entirely he must of necessity be 
close at hand. The road that Mr. Rutledge- 
must take in order to reach the mining camp 
branched off from the one that we were fol- 
lowing, at a little distance, and I under- 


JOE DISAPPEARS 


169 


stood very well that, considering the distance, 
he did not think it civil to gallop on ahead 
of me. But suppose he should yet ask me 
where the melons came from — just suppose it. 
Should I tell a lie, or should I tell him that I 
was not even acting as teamster to oblige another? 
I took uj) the whip — then I dropped it back into 
its socket. I had always known myself for, in 
my quiet way, rather a proud girl, but — it — 
but — it was not this kind of pride, and I had 
never before felt myself a coward. Because 
Mr. Butledge was a gentleman, was it any worse 
that he should know — 

I drew in the reins sharply, and the team 
came to a standstill. The sudden cessation of 
that fearful noise called to mind a line or two 
that Jessie is fond of quoting : “ And silence 
like a poultice comes, to heal the blows of sound.” 

Mr. Butledge again halted his horse, and 
turned on me an inquiring look. My throat 
was dry and husky, and my voice sounded 
strange in my own ears as I said, in answer to 
the look : 


170 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


I wanted to tell you, Mr. Eutledge, that we 
raised these melons ourselves, and we are trying 
to sell them.’’ 

Are you?” 

His tone was very gentle. He regarded me 
and my dusty, wayworn outfit silently for a 
space, then he said, this time with no laughter 
in his voice : 

“ I take off my hat to you. Miss Leslie ” — he 
suited the action to the word — ‘‘ and I thank you 
for teaching me anew the truth of the old 
saying : ‘ True hearts are more than coronets, 
and simple worth than Norman blood.’ ” 

He rejilaced his hat with a sweeping bow, 
touched the black horse lightly with a sj^urred 
heel, and was gone. The tears were in my eyes 
as I watched the little swirl of dust raised by his 
horse’s hoofs settle back to j)lace. I had not 
deserved praise, but it was something to feel that 
others understood how hard and distasteful was 
this bitter task, and I was glad to remember that 
he had not added to my humiliation by offering 
to buy my melons. I meant to sell them all 


JOE DISAPPEARS 


171 


before returning home now, and I did, but it was 
a long day’s work, and when I reached home I 
had only five dollars to show for it. ‘‘ He ” had 
been chiefly absent from home, and I had 
booked many promises. 

Jessie and Ralph met me at the gate as I 
drove up. Jessie was interested and anxious. 

“ Why, you have sold all the melons !” Jessie 
exclaimed, glancing into the wagon-box, and 
narrowly escaping being knocked over by 
Guard, as he sprang down from the seat. You 
have had good luck, Leslie.” 

“ Good luck doesn’t mean ready money in this 
case, Jessie, and that is what we need. There’s 
just about one more load of melons, and to- 
morrow we’ll take them out to the storage 
camp.” 

‘‘That may be a good plan,” Jessie admitted 
reflectively, “ but it’s a long drive.” 

“Yes, we must get an early start, and we 
must not forget to oil the wagon wheels,” I said, 
but I did not mention my meeting with Mr. 
Rutledge. 


CHAPTEE XIV 


AT THE STORAGE RESERVOIR 

By nine o’clock the next morning we were on 
our way to the water-storage camp, twenty miles 
away across the plains. 

The wagon-box was piled high with the last 
of our cantaloupe crop. Jessie and I had risen 
at daylight to pull them. We had been careful 
to leave a vacant space in the front of the 
wagon, and this, fitted up with liis favorite little 
chair and j)l6ttty of blankets, made a snug 
harbor for Ealph. . The little fellow was wild 
with excitement and pleasure at the prospect 
before him. There was room, besides, in the 
harbor for a well-filled lunch basket, a jug of 
water, and, if he became tired of walking, for 
Guard. The dog trotted on beside the wagon, 
alert and vigilant, until we were well outside of 
the valley, when, intoxicated, perhaps, by the 
sight of such boundless miles over which to 
172 


AT THE STOEAGE EESEliVOIR 173 

chase them, he gave himself up to the pursuit of 
prairie dogs. An entirely futile pursuit in all 
cases, but Guard seemed unable to understand 
the hopelessness of it until some miles had been 
covered a^d he was panting with fatigue. The 
wary little creatures always kept within easy 
reach of their burrows, a fact which Guard did 
not comprehend until he had scurried wildly 
through a half-dozen prairie dog towns in suc- 
cession. But when the conviction did force 
itself upon him their most insistent and insolent 
barking was powerless to arrest his further at- 
tention. He had learned his lesson. 

I had put the rifle and a well-filled cartridge- 
belt into the wagon thinking that I might get a 
shot at a jack-rabbit or cotton-tail, but Guard's 
experience impressed me as likely to be mine 
also should I attempt to kill such small game 
with a rifle, and I left the gun untouched. 

The i^lains were gray with dust and shimmer- 
ing in the heat. Clouds of the pungent alkali 
dust were stirred up by the horses' feet and by 
the wagon wheels — we had oiled the wheels 


174 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


after an extravagant fashion, I’m afraid, for I 
do not remember that Joe ever used up an entire 
jar of lard, as we did, for that purpose — and our 
throats were parched, our faces blistered, and our 
eyes smarting before half the distance to the camp 
was passed over. The wind, what little there was 
of it, seemed but to add waves of heat to the 
torturing waves of alkali dust. Ralph, after 
whimpering a little with the general discomfort, 
curled down in his nest and dropped off to sleep, 
but there was no such refuge for Jessie and 
me. 

“ It’s a dreadful thing to be poor !” Jessie ex- 
claimed, at last. There was a desolate intona- 
tion in her voice, and my own spirits drooped. 
The horses dropped into a slow walk. 

‘‘We shall have one advantage over Mr. 
Wilson, whatever happens,” Jessie presently 
continued. 

“ How is that?” I inquired. It did not look, 
at the moment, as if we were ever destined to 
have the advantage of any one. 

“We shall not find the men at dinner ; they 


AT THi: STORAGE RESERVOIR 175 

will have had their dinners and gone to work 
again.” 

“ We may find them at supper,” I said, giving 
Frank an impatient slap with the lines. The 
blow was a light one, but it took him by sur- 
prise, and, as was his wont, he stopped and 
looked back inquiringly, seemingly anxious to 
know what was meant by such a proceeding. 
Jessie snatched up the whip, and I laughed as I 
invited Frank to go on. “ Don’t strike him, 
please, Jessie! You don’t understand Frank, 
and he doesn’t understand the meaning of a 
blow; he thinks, when he is doing his work 
faithfully and gets struck, that it must have been 
an accident, and he stops to investigate.” 

Dear me ! How much you know — or think 
you do — about horses,” Jessie returned wearily. 
‘‘ You’re worse than old Joe.” She dropped the 
whip back into its socket with a petulant 
gesture. ‘‘ I’m sorry we started, Leslie. Here 
we’ve been on the road six or eight hours — ” 

A little over three hours, Jessie.” 

“Well, we’re not in sight of the promised 


176 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


land yet, and I’m nearly roasted ; I shall just 
melt if we keep on this way much longer.” 

‘‘ Me is melted ; me is all water !” cried Kalph, 
waking up suddenly, and immediately giving 
way to forlorn tears. The tears plowed tiny 
furrows through the dust that clung to his moist 
cheeks, and had settled in grayish circles un- 
derneath his eyes. Jessie looked down at the 
piteous little figure and her own ill-temper van- 
ished. 

“ Come up here and look round, you poor hot 
little mite !” she exclaimed, extending one hand 
and a foot as a sort of impromptu step-ladder. 
Ralph clambered up with some difficulty and 
looked around as directed, but the prospect did 
not have an enlivening effect on. him. 

‘‘Where is we ?” he demanded, turning his 
large, dust-encircled eyes on each of us in turn. 

“ On the plains,” I responded briefiy. I was 
driving ; the load was heavy, and the horses, 
worn with fatigue and the heat, lagged more and 
more ; therefore my anxiety grew, and I had no 
time to waste on trivialities. 


AT THE STORAGE RESERVOIR 


177 


“ One need not ask why it never rains here, 
though,’^ I suddenly observed, “ for behold ! 
Jessie, there is the thing that makes rain un- 
necessary/’ 

A glimmer of white had been, for some min- 
utes, slowly growing on the horizon. I had 
thought at first, that it must be a mirage, but it 
kept its place so steadily, without that swift, 
undulating, gliding motion that these familiar 
plains spectacles always present that I presently 
became convinced that the white glimmer was a 
lake, and so that we were within a few miles of 
our objective point. 

‘‘ Sure enough, that’s the lake !” Jessie ex- 
claimed, after a long look. Well, that’s some 
comfort,” was her conclusion. Ralph stood up 
on the seat between us and looked, too : 

‘‘ Me wants a dwink !^’ he cried, after making 
quite sure that the white shimmer in the dis- 
tance was that of water. 

Jessie slid off the seat and got hold of the 
water-jug and tincup, then she tried to fill the 
cup, but the result was disastrous. 

12 


178 


TWO WYOMIIfa GiELS 


“ You^ll have to stop the horses, Leslie, I shall 
spill every drop of water at this rate/’ 

As the wagon came to a stand-still, and while 
Ralph was drinking. Guard suddenly appeared 
from his j)lace underneath the wagon — he had 
thus far declined all invitations to ride — and 
putting his fore feet on the front hub, looked 
up, whining beseechingly : 

“ Dard wants some water, too,” Ralph 
said. 

He’s got to have it, then,” I declared, and 
climbed quickly out of the wagon. 

‘‘ I hope you don’t intend to let him drink 
out of the cup !” Jessie exclaimed. 

‘‘ No ; hand me the jug, and I’ll pour the 
water into his mouth.” 

‘‘ Oh, he can’t drink in that way !” 

Just hand me the jug and see.” She com- 
plied, and Guard justified my faith in his intel- 
ligence by gulping down the water that I poured 
into his open mouth, very carefully, scarcely 
spilling a drop. 

Ill the end we decided to get out and eat our 


AT THE STORAGE RESERVOIR 179 

lunch in the shade of the wagon, especially as 
Ralph was plaintively declaring : 

‘‘ Me so hundry 

‘‘ We’ll give the horses a chance to eat while 
we’re selling the melons,” I remarked, as much 
for Frank’s benefit as anything else, for he had 
turned his head, and was watching us with re- 
proachful interest, as we sat at our meal. He 
must have thought us very selfish. 

Lunch over, we climbed back into the wagon 
again, after re-packing the basket. Guard also 
signified his willingness to ride, now, and we 
went on, much refreshed by the brief stop and 
the needed lunch which had hardly lost its 
consolatory effect when, between one and two 
o’clock, we drew up before the door of the cook’s 
tent, on the eastern bank of the great water- 
storage reservoir. The cook was busy, but sig- 
nified, after a hasty inspection, that our load 
was all right. 

Better take it in,” he added, nodding toward 
one of the three men who were lounging about 
in the vicinity. I suppose that this friendly 


180 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


young gentleman must have been the commis- 
sary clerk, or something of that sort. He called 
a man to take care of our horses, and chatted 
with us pleasantly, while another man unloaded 
the melons. He urged us to come into the 
dining-tent and let the cook knock us up a 
dinner,” but this we declined on the jdea that 
we had already dined, and were extremely 
anxious to take the homeward road as soon as 
possible. 

‘‘ It’s so late, you see,” Jessie observed, con- 
sulting father’s big silver watch, which she 
carried. 

We have already been here some time ; how 
late is it, Jessie?” I asked. 

‘‘ Why, it’s nearly four !” Jessie made the 
statement in a tone of dismay, adding : “ How 
late it will be before we get home !” 

‘‘ I can drive home a great deal faster than 
we came,” I said. 

‘‘ How far have you got to go !” inquired 
the clerk, who had told us that his name was 
Phillips. 


AT THE STORAGE RESERVOIR 181 
Twenty iniles/^ 

“ That’s a good bit ; but it’s a moonlight 
night.” 

Dear me ! We don’t care if it is,” Jessie 
returned, rather crossly ; ‘‘we want to get home.” 

“ You’ll get home all right,” Mr. Phillips as- 
sured her, easily. “ I’ll have Tom ^mt your 
horses in at once and here’s the money for your 
load.” He counted out a fascinating little roll 
of bills, adding, as he tendered the amount to 
J essie, who prom j)tly pocketed it, “ I hope you’ll 
excuse my saying that you appear to be a j)lucky 
pair of girls. If you’ve anything more to 
market — ” Jessie shook her head : 

“ There was a reason ; we were obliged to sell 
the melons,” she ended, lamely. The horses, 
fed, watered, and evidently greatly refreshed, 
were, by this time, on the wagon. Mr. Phillips 
heljied us in, and, while doing so, his glance fell 
on the rifle lying under the seat. He took up 
the gun and ran his eye over it approvingly. 

“ Either of you shoot ?” he inquired. 

“My sister shoots pretty well,” Jessie told 


182 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


him, adding: We really must be starting, and 
we are a thousand times obliged to you for your 
kindness.” 

“ And particularly for buying the melons,” I 
could not forbear saying. 

Mr. Phillips laughed : The boys will say 

that it was you who conferred the obligation, 
when it comes to sampling those melons,” he 
said. I had gathered up the lines when he 
added, suddenly: ‘‘Wait!” I waited, Avhile he 
stepped back into the tent. He re-appeared 
directly, carrying a half dozen big mallards 
and a couple of jack-rabbits: “You’ll let me 
make you a present of these, won’t you?” he 
asked, smiling, persuasively, as he tossed them 
into the wagon-box. “ I was out hunting this 
morning, and I had good luck, as I always do.” 
We thanked him heartily for his gift and drove 
off feeling not only a good deal richer, but much 
happier than when we had started out. 


CHAPTER XV 


CHASED BY WOLVES 

The horses trotted along briskly for a few 
miles, but they were tired from two days of hard 
work, and, in spite of their eagerness to reach 
home, their j^ace slackened. I did not urge 
them. It would be, as Mr. Phillips had said, a 
moonlight night; the rays of the rising moon 
were already silvering the deepening dusk. 
Ralph was again asleep in his snug harbor, with 
Guard lying quietly beside him. 

The cows will be waiting at the corral bars 
when we get home,’’ Jessie remarked once, but 
it is going to be so light that we can do the 
chores nearl}’’ as well at midnight as we could at 
mid-day, so there is really no need of hurrying. 
We’ve had good luck to-day, haven’t we, 
Leslie ?” 

‘‘ Yes,” I answered, we have,” but I s^^oke 
absently. I . was listening to again catch a 

183 


184 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


sound that had just reached my ears ; faint, far 
off, but welcome; it was one that we seldom 
heard in that mountain-guarded valley where 
our days were passed. 

‘‘ Did you hear that, Jessie 

^‘Whatr 

The whistle of a locomotive engine ; there it 
is again ! How far off it seems 

Sound travels a long way over these plains ; 
there/s nothing to intercept it — but I didn’t 
hear it.” 

Listen. It will sound again, perhaps, when 
the train reaches anotlier crossing. It must he 
way down on the Huerfano. There, didn’t you 
hear that ?” 

‘‘Yes; do keep still, Guard.” 

Guard, aroused from his naj^, was sitting up 
and looking around with an occasional low 
growl. 

“ Seems to me that they must have railway 
crossings pretty thick down on the Huerfano,” 
Jessie remarked, after a moment’s silence. 
“ That makes three whistles — if they are 


CHASED BY WOLVES 


185 


whistles — that weVe heard within as many 
minutes.’’ 

“That’s true, Jessie — I hadn’t thought of 
that. It may not be an engine. It sounds 
louder, instead of diminishing as it would if — 
keep still. Guard ! What in the world is the 
matter with you !” 

For answer. Guard, with every hair on his 
back erect and standing up like the quills of a 
porcupine, got up, and wriggled himself under 
the seat on which we were sitting, making his 
way to the end of the wagon-box, where he 
stood with legs braced to keep himself steady, 
his chin resting on the edge of the tail-board, 
and liis eyes fixed on the darkening roadway 
over which we had just passed. Every now and 
then he gave alow, sullen growl, and, even from 
where we sat, and in the increasing gloom we 
could see that his white fangs were bared. 

“ How strangely Guard acts !” exclaimed 
Jessie, with a sudden catch in her voice, and a 
dawning fear of — she knew not what — in her eyes. 
At that instant the sound that I had taken for the 


186 TWO WYOMING GIRLS 

far-off, dying whistle of a locomotive, came again 
to my ears ; nearer, more distinct, in increasing 
volume — a weird, melancholy call — a jmrsuing 
cry. The lines were in my hands, and at that 
instant the horses suddenly sprang forward, 
faster, faster, until their pace became a tearing 
run, and then some words of my own, spoken 
weeks before, flashed into my mind, bringing 
with them a mental illumination. 

There are wolves !’’ I had said. I was con- 
scious of an effort to steady my voice, to keep it 
from shaking, as I thrust the lines into Jessie’s 
hands. Try to keep the horses in the road, 
Jessie ; do not check them. I am going back 
there by Guard.” 

‘‘ What for ?” Jessie’s tones were sharp with 
apprehension, and again, as if in explanation, 
came that pursuing chorus. I sprang over the 
back of the seat, and knelt in the bottom of the 
wagon box, securing the rifle and cartridge- 
belt. Jessie, holding the lines firmly in either 
hand, shifted her position to look down on 
me. Her face gleamed white in the dusk 


CHASED BY WOLVES 


187 


as she breathed, rather than spoke : Wolves, 
Leslie?’^ 

‘‘ Yes,’’ I had the gun now and staggered to 
my feet. Watch the horses, Jessie.” Jessie 
nodded. 

E-alph, roused by the rapid motion, liad 
awakened. He struggled to a sitting posture. 
‘‘ What for is us doin’ so fas’ ?” he inquired, with 
interest. 

Jessie made no reply, but she put one 
foot on his short skirt, holding liim in place. 
Some intuition told him what was taking place, 
perhaps, what might take place. Clasping both 
chubby hands around Jessie’s foot to steady him- 
self, he sat in silence, making no complaint. 
The brave spirit within his baby body had risen 
to meet the crisis as gallantly as could that of 
any Gordon over whose head a score of years 
had passed. 

Reaching the end of the wagon, I crouched 
down beside Guard, with rifle poised and finger 
on the trigger, waiting for the pursuing outcry 
to resolve itself into tangible shape. I had not 


188 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


long to wait. Dusky shadows came stealing out 
from either side of the roadway. Shadows that, 
as I strained my eyes upon them, seemed to 
grow and multiply, until, in less time than it 
takes to tell it, we were close beset by a pack of 
wolves in full cry. The terrified horses were 
bounding along and the wagon was bouncing 
after them, at a rate that threatened moment- 
arily to either shatter the wagon or set the 
horses free from it, but Jessie still kept them in 
the road. A moment more and the wolves were 
upon us, and had ceased howling ; their quarry 
was at hand. I could see their eyes flam- 
ing in the darkness, and with the rifle 
muzzle directed toward a couple of those 
flaming points, I fired. There was a terrific 
clamor again as the report of the gun died 
away, and a score or more of our pursuers halted, 
sniffing at a fallen comrade. But one gaunt 
long-limbed creature disdained to stop for such 
a matter. He kept after the wagon. Guard 
was young and, moreover, this was his first ex- 
perience with wolves. He had stopped growl- 


CHASED BY WOLVES 


189 


ing, but Ills eyes seemed to dart fire, and as the 
wolf that had outstripped its mates sprang up, 
with gnashing teeth, hurling himself at the tail- 
board in a determined effort to spring into the 
wagon. Guard attempted to sj)ring out and grap- 
ple with him. I was leaning against the dog, 
ready to meet the wolfs closer approach with a 
bullet, and, in consequence, I felt the impetus 
of his leap before he could accomplish it. The 
gun dropped from my hand with a crash as I 
threw both arms around Guard, intent on hold- 
ing him in the wagon. I was so far successful 
that his leap was checked ; he fell across the 
tailboard, his head and forelegs outside. My 
grip about his body tightened as 1 felt him slip- 
ping. I jiulled back mightily, and had the sat- 
isfaction of tumbling backward with him into 
the wagon-box, but not before he had briefly 
sampled the wolf. The creature^s savage head 
and cruel eyes appeared above the tailboard, 
even as I dragged at Guard, who, not to be de- 
terred by my interference, made a vicious lunge 
at the enemy, and fell back with me, his mouth 


190 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


and throat so full of wolf-hair and hide that he 
was nearly strangled. But that particular wolf 
had drawn off. I regained my feet and admon- 
ished Guard : Stay there, sir ! Stay right 

there !” I gasped, and again secured the gun. 
The wolves, on each side of us now, were run- 
ning close to the front wheels and to the gallojD- 
ing horses, and one was again trying to leap 
into the box from the rear. The rifle spoke, 
and he fell motionless on the road, at the same 
instant I heard Balph saying, imperatively : 
“ Do away ! Do away I tells ’oo I looked 
around. Balph was on his knees — no one 
could have kept footing in that wagon-box 
just then — a pair of wolves were leaping 
up wildly beside the near wheel, making 
futile springs and snaps at him, and just then 
he lifted something, some dark object from 
the bottom of the wagon-box, and hurled 
it at them with all the power of his baby 
hands. Whatever the object was, its effect on 
the wolves was instantaneous. The pack had 
not stojiped to look at the wolf brought down by 


CHASED BY WOLVES 


191 


my second shot, but they all stopped, snarling 
and fighting over Ralph’s missile. A few took 
on after us, and then Ralph threw another ; 
they stopped again at that, and then I saw that 
the child was throwing out the game that 
Phillii^s had given us. With another command 
to Guard to remain where he was, I crept back 
to the pile of game yet remaining, and tossed 
out what was left. Then I crept on to Jessie. 

‘‘ Can you slow the horses down ?” I shouted 
in her ear. “ The wolves will not follow us 
again ; they have got what they were after.” 

The horses knew me, and by dint of much 
pulling and many soothing words I had them 
partially quieted, but it took so long to gain 
even that much control over them that the 
wolves were far out of sight and sound behind 
us when I at length ventured to look back. The 
horses were walking at last, but it was a walk 
so full of frightened starts and nervous glances 
that it threatened at any moment to break into a 
run. By the moonlight Jessie and I looked into 
each others’ white faces, and, with Ralph cud- 


102 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


died between us, clung together for a breathless 
instant of thanksgiving. Then — ‘‘ ’Ose dogs 
was hundry,” E-alph observed, philosophically, 
adding, as an afterthought : “ Me hundry, too ; 
Is we inos’ ’ome, ^Essie 

We’ll be there soon,” I answered, tremu- 
lously. We saw or heard nothing more of the 
wolves, which were of that cowardly sj)ecies — a 
compromise between the skulking coyote and the 
savage gray wolf, known as ‘‘Loafers.” A 
loafer very seldom attacks man, but he will, 
if numerous enough, run down and destroy 
cattle — sometimes horses. In this instance it 
was undoubtedly the scent of the game in the 
wagon that attracted them. Once attracted and 
bent on caj)ture, they are as fiercely determined 
as their gray cousins, and but for the fortunate 
accident of Ralph’s using a duck for a j^rojectile 
they would have kept up the chase until the 
horses were exhausted, and they were able to 
help themselves. 

It was after nine when we reached home, and 
never had home seemed a dearer or safer place. 


CHASED BY WOLVES 


193 


The chores all done, Ralph asleep in his little 
crib, and Guard sleeping the sleep of the just 
on the kitchen doorstep, Jessie and I sat down 
by the table to eat a belated supper, and count 
our hard-won gains. The melon crop was all 
sold, and it had netted us forty dollars. 


13 


CHAPTER XVI 


A SLEEPLESS NIGHT 

It was close upon the beginning of another 
day before Jessie and I got to bed, but, late as 
it was, I could not sleep. 

Our pressing financial problem was so con- 
stantly in my thoughts that now, in my weari- 
ness, I found myself unable to dismiss it. We 
had collected some money, but not enough — not 
enough! I turned and tossed restlessly. Now 
that the time for proving up was so close at hand 
an increasing terror of failure grew upon me. It 
did not seem to me that I should be able to en- 
dure it if we were obliged to give up our home. 
Forty dollars ! In the stillness of the night that 
sum, as I reflected upon it, dwindled into insig- 
nificance. I reviewed all of our monetary trans- 
actions that I could think of, and, adding up the 
sum total, half convinced myself that we must 
have made a mistake in the counting thatevening. 
194 


A SLEEPLESS NIGHT 


195 


‘‘ I^m quite sure that tliere^s more than forty 
dollars/^ I told myself, turning over my hot pil- 
low in search of a cooler side, and giving it a 
vigorous shake. ‘‘ I'm quite sure ! There's the 
money for Mr. Horton's mending, that was forty 
cents ; and Miss Jones's wrapper was two dol- 
lars ; and that setting of eggs that I sold to 
Jennie Speers — I don't remember whether they 
were two dollars or only fifty cents. Oh, dear ! 
And there was Cleo's calf; that was — I don't 
remember how much it was !" 

The longer I remembered and added up, and 
remembered and subtracted, the less I really 
knew. By the time that my fifth reckoning 
had reduced our hoard to twenty-seven dollars 
I would gladly have gotten up and counted the 
money again, but Jessie had it in charge and I 
did not know where she kept it. It was small 
consolation in the desperate state of uncertainty 
into which I had worked myself to reflect that 
I had only myself to blame for this. Being a 
somewhat imaginative young person, I had 
reasoned that if burglars were to break into the 


196 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


house and demand to know the whereabouts of 
our hidden wealth it might be possible for Jessie, 
who knew, to escape, taking her knowledge with 
her, while I, who did not know, might safely 
stand by that declaration. It was rather a far- 
fetched theory, but Jessie had willingly sub- 
scribed to it. If not actually apprehensive of 
robbery, she was, perhaps, more inclined to trust 
to her own quiet temper, in a case of emergency, 
Ihan to my warmer one. At the same time she 
understood very well that I had an unusual 
talent for silence. It was this talent that induced 
me to stay my hand late that night just as I was 
on the point of rousing Jessie and asking her 
where she had put the money. She was sleeping 
soundly and she was very tired. 

ril count it all over the first thing in the 
morning,” I thought ; and with the resolution, 
dropped off to sleep. 

It was very late when I awoke. Ralph was 
still sleeping, but Jessie had risen, and was mov- 
ing quietly about the house. Above the slight 
noise that she made I heard distinctly the 


A SLEEPLESS NIGHT 


197 


pu-r — rr of falling water, and knew that it 
was raining heavily. With the knowledge, the 
recollection that Joe had gone came back to me 
with an unusual sense of aggravation. Joe had 
always done the milking, and it had not rained 
since he left. Dressing noiselessly, in order 
not to disturb Ralph, I went out into the 
kitchen. Jessie looked up as I entered. I’ll 
help you milk this morning, Leslie,” she said. 
‘‘ It’s too bad for you to have to putter around 
in the rain while I’m dry in the house.” 

“ There’s no use in our both getting wet,” I 
returned, ungraciously. ‘‘ You’d much better 
finish getting breakfast and keep watch of 
Ralph. If he were to waken and find us both 
gone he’d probably start out a relief expedition 
of one in any direction that took his fiincy. 
He’d be glad of the chance to get out in the 
rain.” 

Who would have thought of its raining so 
soon when we came home last night. There 
wasn’t a cloud in sight.” 

There’s none in sight now ; we’re inside of 


198 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


one SO thick that we can^t see out. I dare say 
we’ll encounter more than one rain-storm ‘ while 
the days are going by but it would be handy 
if Joe were here this morning.” 

‘‘ Yes, indeed ! I only hope Joe’s conscience 
acquits him, wherever he is.” 

‘‘Oh, I am sure it does — if he has a con- 
science — for I suppose that’s what you would 
call his feeling obliged to worry about us,” I 
said, in quick defence of the absent friend whose 
actions I might secretly question, but of whom 
I could not bear that another should speak 
slightingly. 

I put on my old felt hat and took up the 
milk-pail. Jessie was busy over something that 
she was cooking in a skillet on the stove, but she 
glanced up as I opened the door, and a dash of 
rain came swirling in. 

“ Why, Leslie Gordon ! Are you going out 
in this storm dressed like that ? Here, put on 
my mackintosh.” 

I had forgotten all about wraps, but a shawl 
or cape would have been better than the long 


A SLEEPLESS NIGHT 


199 


mackintosh that Jessie insisted upon buttoning 
me into. It was too long; the skirts nearly 
tripped me up as I started to run down the path 
to the corral, and when I held it up it was little 
protection. 

The corral where the cows were usually 
penned over-night was behind the barn. As I 
came in sight of it a feeling of almost despair 
swept over me. The corral bars were down, 
and the cows were gone ! I hung the milk-pail 
bottom-side up on one of the bar posts. The 
raindrops played a lively tattoo on its resound- 
ing sides, while I dropped the mackintosh skirt, 
regardless of its trailing length, and stood still, 
trying to recollect that I had put up the bars 
after we had finished milking on the previous 
evening. Search my memory as I might, how- 
ever, I could not find that I had taken this 
simple but necessary precaution, and, if I had 
forgotten it, it was useless to suppose that Jessie 
had not. 

“ It’s just my negligence !” I remarked, scorn- 
fully, to my drenched surroundings ; ‘‘just my 


200 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


negligence, and now I shall have to hunt for 
those cows, and in this rain that shuts everything 
out it will be like looking for a needle in a 
haymow/’ 

I took down the j^ail, seeming to take down 
an entire chorus of singing water witches with 
it, and retraced my steps to the house. Even 
this simple act was performed with some diffi- 
culty, for again I stepped on the mackintosh 
and nearly fell. 

You’ve been very quick with the milking, 
and breakfast’s all ready,” Jessie remarked, 
cheerfully, as I entered, and then, catching sight 
of the empty pail, she exclaimed, Why, what’s 
the matter ?” 

When I told her, she said, reproachfully, 
“ Leslie, of course I supposed that you would 
put up the bars after we had finished milking 
last night !” 

I am afraid that I was cross as well as tired : 
‘‘ Why, ‘ of course,’ Jessie ? Why is it, can 
you tell me, that there is always some one mem- 
ber of a family who is supposed, quite as a mat- 


A SLEEPLESS NIGHT 


201 


ter of course, to make good the shortcomings 
and long-goings of all the others ? To straighten 
out the domestic tangles, to remember, always 
remember, what the others forget ; to be good- 
tempered when others are ill-tempered ; to — 

Jessie laid a brown little hand on my shoulder, 
checking the torrent of my eloquence ; she laid 
her cheek against my own for a passing instant. 
That’s all easily answered, Leslie dear. The 
some one that you describe is the soul of a 
house. When a house has the misfortune not 
to have such an one in it, it has no soul ; the 
other members are merely forms, moving forms, 
with impulses.” 

I knew that she meant to compliment me, but 
I would not appear to know it. 

“ I suppose, then,” I returned, with affected 
resentment, that I am a form with impulses. 
One of the impulses just now is to eat break- 
fast.” 

“Me hundry; me eat breffkuss, too,” pro- 
claimed a shrill, familiar voice at my elbow. I 
had already taken my seat at the table. 


202 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


“ Eat your breakfast, Leslie,^’ said Jessie; 
dress Ralph. After breakfast, perhaps, I had 
better go with you after the cows She spoke 
with some hesitation. As a matter of fact, she 
does not begin to know the cattle trails as I know 
them. 

‘‘ No,’’ I said ; ‘‘ I’ll go alone, Jessie ; I can 
find them much quicker than you could.” 

‘‘They may not have gone far.” Jessie ad- 
vanced this proposition hopefully. 

“ Far enough. I’ll warrant. I believe there’s 
nothing that a cow likes so well as to chase 
around on a morning like this ; especially if she 
thinks some one is hunting for her.” 

“ You can take one of the horses — ” Jessie 
began, and, in the irritated state of my mind, it 
was some satisfaction to be able to promptly 
veto that proposition. 

“ Oh, no, indeed ! I shall have to go on foot. 
It seems you* turned them out to pasture last 
night. I think you must have forgotten how 
hard it is to catch either of the horses when 
they are both let out at once.” 


A SLEEPLESS NIGHT 


203 


My sister had the grace to blush slightly, 
which consoled me a good deal. I hoped that, 
either as a soul or a form with impulses, she re- 
membered that father or Joe had never made a 
practice of letting both horses out at once. 
When one was in the barn, his mate in the pas- 
ture could be easily caught. Otherwise, the 
catching was a work of labor and of pain. Once, 
indeed, when both had been inadvertently 
turned out together, father had been obliged to 
hire a cowboy to come with his lariat and rope 
Jim, the principal offender. When Jim, with 
the compelling noose about his neck, had been 
led ignominiously back to the stable, father had 
told us never to let them out together again, a 
warning that Jessie evidently recalled now for 
the first time. 

Dear me, Leslie ! Tm dreadfully sorry !’' 
she exclaimed, lifting Ralph into his high chair ; 

I just meant to save a little work, and I guess 
IVe brought on no end of it 

‘‘ Perhaps not ; wedl leave the barn door open. 
It's so cold that they may go in of their own 


204 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


accord after a while.’’ And that was what they 
did do, along in the afternoon, when it was 
quite too late for them to be of any service that 
day. 

My hasty breakfast finished, I got up from 
the, table. “ I am going right away, Jessie; it 
will never do to let the cows lie out all day.” 

“No,” Jessie assented. She was waiting on 
Ralph. I had thrown the mackintosh over a 
chair near the stove. I had had enough of that, 
but I must wear something. Picking up the 
big felt hat, I went into the next room and 
looked into a closet where a number of garments 
were hanging. Back in the corner, partially 
hidden under some other clothing, I caught a 
glimpse of a worn gray coat — the coat that 
father had loaned Joe on that fatal morning 
months ago. The rain dashed fiercely against 
the window panes as it had on that mornings 
too, and the sad, dull day seemed to grow sadder 
and grayer. With a sudden, homesick longing 
for father’s love and sympathy, I took down the 
coat. Tears sprang to my eyes at sight of the 


A SLEEPLESS NIGHT 


205 


big, aggressive patch on the left sleeve. Father 
had praised me for that bit of clumsy workman- 
ship at which Jessie had laughed. I resolved 
to wear the coat. I shall feel as if hither were 
with me,^’ I thought, as I slipped it on. Going 
out at the front door I did not again encounter 
Jessie, but as I passed the kitchen windows I saw 
her glance up and look at me with a startled air. 

It was still raining heavily and I started out 
bn a fast walk. Crossing the foot-bridge below 
the house I ascended the hill on the other side. 
The cattle always crossed the river without the 
aid of the foot-bridge, however, and took this 
route to the upper range, where they were pretty 
sure to be now. I hoped that the pursuit would 
not lead me far among the hills. While thus 
in the open the situation was not unpleasant ; I 
rather enjoyed the feeling of the rain drops in 
my face. Just as I gained the crest of the hill 
beyond the river I heard some one shouting, 
and, looking back, saw Jessie. She was out in 
the yard in the rain calling and waving the 
apron that she had snatched off for the purpose. 


206 


TWO WYOMING GIELS 


With the noise of the rain and the rushing river 
it was impossible to make out what she was 
saying. I was sure, though, that she merely 
wished to remonstrate with me for not wearing 
the mackintosh. I waved my hand to let her 
know that I saw her, and then hurried on down 
the farther slope of the hill. I walked fast for 
a long distance without coming upon any trace 
of the cattle, and then I fell gradually into the 
slower pace that is meant for staying. As I did 
so my thoughts again reverted to the money- 
counting problem that had vexed me over night. 
In the re-assuring light of day it did not seem 
so entirely probable that Jessie had been so 
mistaken in her count, and it did not so much 
matter that I had forgotten after all to ask her 
where the money was kept. 


CHAPTER XVII 


A QUEER BANK 

In spite of obliterating rain, there were plenty 
of fresh cattle tracks along and by the side of 
the trail. It did not necessarily follow that any 
of the tracks were made by our cattle, still, they 
might have been, and with this slight encour- 
agement, I hurried along, getting gradually 
higher, and deeper into the mountains. As I 
went I reflected bitterly on the perversity of 
cow nature. A nature that leads these gentle 
seeming creatures to endure hunger, thirst, and 
weariness, to push for miles into a trackless 
wilderness, if by so doing they can put their 
owners to trouble and expense. It was not often 
that our cattle ranged so far away from home, 
and it was with a little unconfessed feeling of 
dismay that, pausing to take stock of my sur- 
roundings, I suddenly discovered that I was 
close upon the Hermit’s cave, and no signs of 

207 


208 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


the strays yet. At the same time I made 
another discovery as comforting as this was dis- 
disquieting. Guard, whom I had forgotten to 
invite to accompany me, was skulking along in 
the underbrush beside the trail, uncertain 
whether to show himself or not. When T spoke 
to him he bounded to my side. “ Guard,’’ I 
said, looking down at him thoughtfully, it’s 
raining harder than ever, and the wind is blow- 
ing ; now that you are with me, I think we will 
just stop in the cave until the storm abates a 
little.” Guard’s bushy tail was wet and heavy 
with rain, but he wagged it approvingly, and 
toward the cave we started. There was a green 
little valley over the ridge, and I resolved when 
the storm slackened, to climb up and have a 
look into it. If the cattle were not there I 
should be compelled to give over the hunt for 
that day. 

A sudden lull in the storm was followed by a 
blacker sweep of clouds and a resounding peal 
of thunder, the prelude to a pitiless burst of hail- 
stones. Pelted by the stinging missiles, and 


A QUEER BANK 


209 


gasping for breath as I struggled against the 
rising wind, I made for the cave with Guard 
close at my heels, and dashed into the gloomy 
cavern without a thought of anything but 
shelter. 

The entrance to the cave was merely a large 
opening in a pile of rocks close beside the cattle 
trail, and the cave itself was famous throughout 
the valley solely because of its imagined history 
and its actual equipment. Because of its near- 
ness to the trail there was little danger of its 
becoming a lair for wild beasts. People said 
that the spot had been the dwelling place of a 
man, educated and wealthy, who had chosen to 
live and die alone in the wilderness. How they 
came to know this was never quite clear, for the 
furnishing of the cave was there, offering its 
mute history to the first venturesome hunter 
who had penetrated these wilds years and years 
ago, just as it was offered to the curious to-day. 
The educational theory could probably be traced 
to the torn and yellowing fragments of a book 
that lay on the rude table opposite the cavern 

14 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


210 

entrance. How many inquisitive fingers had 
turned its baffling pages, how many curious eyes 
had vainly scanned them in the course of the 
slow moving years in which the cavern held its 
secret? The book was written in a language 
quite unknown to us simple folk. For the 
theory of wealth the rusty, crumbling old flint- 
lock musket, leaning against the wall beside 
the table, was silver mounted and heavily 
chased. Beside the table was a rude bench 
made from a section of sawed pine. That w^as 
all, but impressive legends have been handed 
down, from one generation to another, on less 
foundation than the cave furnished to our valley 
romanticists. It was not even odd to us that no 
one in all these years had stolen or desecrated 
the pathetic mementos of a vanished life. People 
on the frontier have a great respect — a respect 
not necessarily enforced with lock and key — for 
the belongings of another. The mountings of the 
gun were of solid silver, but I doubt if even Mr. 
Horton could have justified himself to himself 
in taking it. I had been in the place once or 


A QUEER BANK 


211 


twice and had turned over the untelliiig leaves 
with reverent fingers, but I had never felt any 
inclination to linger within the gloomy walls ; 
the sunlight on the cattle trail outside had 
greater allurements, but now, beaten by the hail, 
I rushed in headlong, and in doing so nearly 
fell over the body of a man lying outstretched 
on the stone floor, just within the entrance. The 
man was evidently sleeping, and very soundly, 
for my tumultuous rush roused him so little 
that he merely turned on one side, sighed, and 
again relapsed into deepest slumber. I stood in 
my tracks, trembling, undecided whether to dash 
out into the storm or run the risk of remaining 
in the cavern. The flerce rattle of the hail 
beating on the rocks outside decided me to do 
the latter. Noiselessly, step by step, I stole 
backward into the darkness of the cavern. My 
backward progress was checked at last by the 
corner of the table against which I brought up. 
I glanced down at it. , It was laden with a reg- 
ular cowboy equipment of spurs, quirt, revolver, 
cartridge belt, and the too common accompani- 


212 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


ment of a bottle of whiskey. If the sleeping 
man on the floor were called on to defend him- 
self for any cause he need not suffer for want of 
ammunition. I had less fear of his awakening 
since seeing the half-emptied bottle, but far 
greater fear of what he might do when he did 
awake. 

Surely, there never was a wiser dog than 
Guard ! He had not made a sound since our 
entrance, although he had certainly cocked a 
disdainful eye at the recumbent figure on the 
floor as we passed it. Now, in obedience to the 
warning of my uplifted finger, he crept silently 
to my side. He watched my movements with 
an air of intelligent comprehension as I quietly 
took possession of the bottle, revolver, and car- 
tridge belt, and then followed me without a 
sound as I stole breathlessly into the deepest 
recess of the cavern. The rocky roof sloped 
down over this recess, until, at its farthest ex- 
tremity, there was scarcely room for a person to 
crouch under it, close to the wall, and it was so 
dark that I could barely make out the form of 


A QUEER BANK 


213 


the dog crouching beside me. Safe hidden in 
the darkness, I determined to rid the sleeping 
man of at least one of his enemies. Pulling the 
cork from the bottle, I poured its contents on 
the rocks, thereby, as I found, running immi- 
nent risk of a sneeze from Guard, who rolled 
his head from side to side in distress as the 
pungent liquor penetrated his nostrils. The 
danger passed, luckily, without noise. We 
crouched in perfect silence, waiting for the hail- 
storm to pass. It was too violent to be of long 
duration, yet I could not tell, after some min- 
utes of anxious listening, when it ceased, for the 
hail was followed by a fresh deluge of rain. It 
was comfortable in the cavern — warm and dry. 
The man, as his regular breathing testified, 
slept soundly, and I thought, while I waited, 
that I, too, might as well make myself easy. 
Softly pulling off the wet coat, I turned the 
dryest side outward, and, rolling it into a com- 
pact bundle, placed it under my head for a 
pillow. With the sleeper’s armament between 
myself and the rock at my back, with Guard 


214 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


vigilantly alive to any motion of anything, in- 
side the cavern or out, I felt entirely safe, and 
wearily closed my eyes. It was pleasant lying 
there so sheltered and guarded, to listen to the 
heavy rush of the rain — or was it hail ? — or the 
far-heard cry of wolves, or the rushing swirl of 
the river. I had not slept well the night before, 
but I could not have been asleep many minutes 
when I was awakened by a low growl from 
Guard. Brief as my nap had been, it was, 
nevertheless, so sound that at first I was bewil- 
dered and unable to recall wliat had happened. 
I started up quickly, bumping my head against 
the rocky roof, and so effectually recalling my 
scattered senses and the necessity for caution. 

The sleej)ing cowboy had also awakened and 
was wandering aimlessly about the cavern. He 
was muttering to himself, and his incoherent 
talk soon told me that he was in anxious quest 
of the bottle that I was at that moment sitting 
upon. 

Tlie sound of his own voice had, apparently, 
drowned that of Guard’s. Seeing this I put 


A QUEER BANK 


215 


one hand on that attendant’s collar and shook 
the other threateningly in his face. He had been 
standing but sat down, with, I was sure from 
the very feel of his fur, a most discontented ex- 
pression. In the silence the stranger’s plaint 
made itself distinctly audible : 

“ Leff’ ’em on a table ; ’n’ whar is they at 
now ? Reckon I must ’a’ been locoed, or, like 
’nuff that ar ole hermutt’s done played a trick 
on me. S’h’d think he’d have more princijde 
than t’ play a trick on a pore feller what’s jest 
stopped t’ rest in his hole for a few hours.” 

He overturned the bench to peer inquiringly 
at the place where it had stood, then, straight- 
ening himself as well as he could — which was 
not very well — he looked slowly around the 
cavern. “ It stan’s to reason,” he muttered 
thoughtfully, ‘‘that if airy one had come in 
wdiilst I was asleep) I’d ’a’ woke up, so the hermutt 
must ’a’ done it. What a ghost kin want of a 
gun beats me, too ! Why in thunderation 
didn’t he take his ole flint-lock, if he was wantin’ 
a gun so mighty bad, instead of sneakin’ back 


216 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


rob a pore feller in liis sleep ! I wonder if 
the ole thing is loaded, anyway. There’s a pair 
of eyes shinin’ back yon in the corner ; I ain’t 
afeared of ’em, but I wisht he’d ’a’ left my gun. 
Who’s agoin t’ draw a bead on a pair of eyes in 
the dark with a ole flint-lock that you have to 
build a bonfire around before the powder’ll 
take fire ?” 

Clearly, as his drunken muttering told, he had 
caught the gleam of Guard’s angry eyes, yet, it 
was evident, as he had said, that he was not at 
all afraid. Wild beast or tame, it was all one to 
him, that I well knew, for now that he was on 
his feet, and standing in the shaft of pale light 
streaming in at the cavern entrance, I recog- 
nized him as Big Jim. 

Big Jim was a cowboy with a more than local 
fame for reckless daring, as well as for his un- 
fortunate appetite for strong drink. I had seen 
him but once before, but I had been able on that 
occasion to render him a slight service. It did 
not seem to me, however, as I crouched tremb- 
ling under the rock, watching his irresponsible 


A QUEER BANK 


217 


movements, that the memory of that service 
would aid my cause with him just now, even if 
I were daring enough to recall it. People said 
that Big Jim never forgave any one who came 
between him and his whiskey bottle. Recalling 
this gossip, as the man staggered toward the 
corner where the rusty old musket stood, I de- 
cided that it was time to act. The flint-lock, 
even if loaded, would probably be as harmless 
in his incapable hands as any other iron rod, 
but under the circumstances it did not look par- 
ticularly safe to linger. 

As the man’s back was turned I sprang sud- 
denly to my feet. ‘‘ Seek him. Guard ! Take 
him !” I cried, and Guard literally obeyed. 
Startled and sobered by the sound of a voice. 
Big Jim whirled around, facing the direction 
whence the voice came, to be met by the dog’s 
fierce charge. Guard’s leap was so impetuous 
that the man staggered under it, and, losing his 
balance, fell to the floor. Guard fastened his 
teeth in the skirt of his coat as he fell. There 
was a momentary struggle on the floor. While 


218 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


it was taking place I darted out of the cavern, 
revolver, cartridge-belt, and even the empty 
whiskey bottle in my hands. Safely outside, I 
halted, and with what little breath I had left 
whistled for Guard. A load was off my heart 
when the dog came bounding to my side, none 
the worse for his brief encounter with an un- 
armed cowboy. 

I had hoped to get out of sight before Big 
Jim discovered me, but he came out of the cav- 
ern on Guard’s heels. Evidently quite sobered, 
he stopped when he saw me. He glanced at the 
armament in my hands, at the empty bottle, 
and, lifting his hat with its great flapping brim, 
scratched his head in perplexity. It was still 
raining, a fact which Big Jim seemed suddenly 
to discover. 

Wet, aint’t it?” he observed. 

Bain is usually wet,” I informed him, with 
unnecessary explicitness. 

“ Yes, I reckon ’tis. Say, that’s my bottle • 
you’ve got in your hands.” 

“ So I supposed.” 


A QUEER BANK 


219 


‘‘You re welcome to the whiskey — I see it^s 
gone, and ’tis a good thing to take off a chill — 
when a body gets wet — but I’d like the bottle 
again.” 

“ I am going to put the bottle and the re- 
volver and the belt in the hollow of the big 
pine near the lower crossing. You can get them 
there.” 

“ Oh, ain’t you goin’ t’ give ’em to me now ?” 

“ No, I am not.” 

“’Fraid of me, I reckon.” 

“Yes, I am.” 

“ I won’t hurt you. Miss Leslie Gordon. I 
remember you first-rate. Got that little white 
handkercher that you done up my hand in the 
day I burned it so at the Alton camp yet.” 

“You might not hurt me,, but I think you 
would hurt my dog.” 

“ Yes, Miss Gordon, I’m ’bleeged t’ say that 
if I had a shootin’ iron in my hands jest now 
I’d be mighty glad t’ let daylight through that 
dog o’ yourn. He’s too fractious t’ live in the 
same country as a white man,” 


220 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


I grasped the revolver tighter. How came 
you in the cavern 

Well, if you want t’ know, I took a drop 
too much at the dance last night, an’ the ole 
man, he’d said if sech a thing as that ar’ took 
place again he’d feel obligated t’ give me the 
marble heart. Mighty cranky the ole man is. 
So I jest wended up here along, thinkin’ I’d 
bunk with the ole hermutt till I got a little 
nigher straight. It’s a thing that don’t often 
happen,” he added, in self-extenuation ; but 
the party, it done got away with me. Now you 
know all about it, an’ you’d better hand over 
them weapons.” 

In spite of his civility, he was plainly angry, 
and I was the more resolved not to yield. The 
storm had been gradually lessening, the rain 
had subsided to a mere drizzle, and, in the in- 
creasing silence, I plainly heard the musical 
tinkle of old Cleo’s bell. It came from beyond 
the ridge, so that it was certain that the cows 
were in the little green valley where I had hoped 
to find them. I started to climb the ridge, re- 



“you better hand over them weapons!” 

(Page 220) 






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A QUEER BANK 


221 


marking over my shoulder to the baffled cow- 
boy, You^ll find your things in the j^ine, where 
I told you/’ 

“ Say, now, don’t make me go down there on 
the high road !” he pleaded ; “ some one might 
see me and tell the boss. I won’t touch the con- 
sarned dog if you’ll give me the gun ; I wonh, 
honest ! The boss, he thinks I’m on the range 
now, an’ it’s where I had ort to be.” 

I was sorry for him, but my fear was greater 
than my sympathy. Guard had torn the skirt 
of his coat in such a manner that it trailed be- 
hind as he walked, like a long and very disrep- 
utable pennant, and I could not be blind to the 
malevolent looks that he turned on my canine 
follower in spite of his fair promises. 

I never heard of any one’s being the 
better for drinking whiskey,” I volunteered, 
as a bit of information that might be of 
interest to him. Then I started on again, to 
be brought to an abrupt halt by hearing a 
voice on the trail below calling in a tone of 
piercing anxiety : 


222 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


‘‘Leslie! Leslie! Leslie!’' The voice was 
Jessie’s. 

“ Jessie, I am here !” I called back re-assur- 
ingly, and ran down in the direction of the 
voice, leaving the cowboy staring. 

In a moment I came face to face with 
my sister as she panted, breathless, up the 
trail. 

“ Oh, Leslie ! Leslie !” she gasped. “ What a 
chase I have had after you !” 

“Why did you follow me ? I have the cows 
— or they have themselves — and your skirts are 
all wet.” 

For answer, Jessie gazed at me with an ex- 
pression curiously compounded of horror and 
dismay. 

“The coat! Where is the coat?” she gasped. 

I remembered then that in my eagerness to 
escape from the cave I had left the coat lying as 
I had used it, rolled up for a pillow. 

“ It’s in the Hermit’s cave,” I said meekly, 
ashamed to admit that I had forgotten the thing 
that she held so sacred that, for its sake, she had 


A QUEER BANK 


223 


followed me in the rain for some toilsome up- 
ward miles. 

“ Go back and get it instantly, instantly !” 
cried my usually calm sister, wringing her hands 
in distress. The distress was so unnecessarily 
acute for the cause that I resented it. 

“The coat is all right, Jessie; it is safe; and 
I do not want to go back there now.” 

“ Why not ?” 

I told her. 

“You must!” said Jessie, with whitening 
lips. “ You must ! Come !” and she rushed up 
the trail toward the cavern. 

“ What have you done with Ralph ?” I asked, 
hurrying after her. Jessie turned an anguished 
glance back at me over her shoulder. 

“ I have left him locked up in the house with 
a pair of scissors and a picture book ; hurry 1” 

“ I hope theyUl keep him from thinking of 
the matches,” I said, bitterly. It seemed to me 
at that moment that Jessie showed more concern 
for the out- worn garment of the dead than she 
did for the safety of the living. 


224 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


Big Jim had gone back into the cavern ; he, 
too, had evidently been searching it, for when, 
at the sound of our approaching footsteps, he 
appeared at the entrance, it was with father’s 
coat in his hands. Jessie went boldly to his side. 

‘‘ I want that coat, if you please,” she said 
firmly. 

Jim backed off a little, holding the coat out 
at arm’s length, and examining it critically. 

‘‘ Whose is it ?” he asked. 

“ It was my father’s ; it is ours ; please give 
it to me.” 

Big Jim shook his head. No ; your dog 
done tore my coat half offen my back ; your 
sister made way with my tonic — I’m bleeged to 
take it for my lungs — an’ she’s got my gun an’ 
fixin’s, an’ won’t give ’em up. I reckon as I’ll 
jest keep this coat till she forks them things 
over.” 

Give him his things, Leslie,” Jessie com- 
manded. 

No,” I remonstrated ; ‘‘ No, Jessie, if I do 
he will shoot Guard ; I’m sure of it.” 


A QUEER BANK 


225 


Jessie turned on the dog: ‘‘Go home! go 
home, sir she cried, stamping her foot. Guard 
slunk off, his tail between his legs, and his bright 
eyes fixed reproachfully on me. I threw the 
gun with its trappings at the cowboy^s feet. 
“ There, take them ! You can shoot me if you 
like. I threw away your whiskey.^’ 

“ I wouldnT V cared a bit if you^d ’a’ drunk 
it, as I reckoned you did,^^ Jim returned wdth a 
light laugh, as he picked up the gun. “ I ain’t 
agoin’ to hurt you ; tole you so in the first place. 
Got your little handkercher yet, I have. Here’s 
the coat.” He tossed it into Jessie’s outstretched 
arms. Clasping it tightly to her breast she 
started quickly down the trail. 

Following her for a few stej)s before tak- 
ing my way over the ridge, I observed 
that her hands were wandering swiftly over 
the coat, from pocket to pocket ; as if seek- 
ing something. Suddenly the expression of 
intense anxiety on her face gave way to one of 
unspeakable relief. She turned around quickly 
and caught my hand : “ Come on, you poor, 
15 


226 TWO WYOMING GiRLS 

abused girl ! Let’s run, I am so anxious about 
Kalph.” 

“ I’m glad you’ve got some affection left for 
him !” I retorted scornfully. ‘‘ It seemed to me 
from the way you’ve gone on, that you cared less 
for either of us than for father’s old coat.” 

Jessie gave the hand that lay limply in her’s an 
ecstatic little squeeze. ‘‘ Our money, Leslie, is 
all in a little bag that is pinned in the lining of 
this old coat ; it’s here now, all safe.” 

I could only gasp, as she had done before me, 
with a difference of names, “ Oh, Jessie !” 

‘‘ Yes,” Jessie repeated, nodding, “ and it’s 
quite safe, I can feel it. Our cowboy friend did 
not have time to find it. I only hope that Ralph 
has not got into mischief.” He had not. I was 
obliged to leave Jessie and go over the ridge for 
the cows, but she told me, when I presently fol- 
lowed her into the house, that she had found 
Ralph still contentedly destroying his picture- 
book. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


A VITAL POINT 

It was the day but one after our exciting trip 
to the Water Storage Reservoir when, as we were 
busy about our usual work, our attention was 
attracted by a loud voice at the gate, shout- 
ing : Whoa ! Whoa, sir ! Whoa, now, I 
tell you and I was guilty of a disrespectful 
laugh. 

“ There conies Mr. Wilson, Jessie. You can 
always tell when he is coming, for he begins 
shouting to his horses to stop as soon as he sights 
a point where he wishes them to halt. Evidently 
he is intending to call on us.’’ 

‘‘Good morning, young folks, good morning !” 
was the hearty salutation, a moment after, as our 
neighbor himself stood on the threshold. 

“ No, I can’t stop,” he declared, as usual, when 
Jessie offered him a chair. “ If I set,” he con- 
tinued, “ I shall stay right on, like a big clam 

227 


228 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


that^s got fixed to liis liking, pro’bly, and IVe 
got a heap to do to-day.” 

Nevertheless, he dropped easily into the seat 
as he continued : 

Day after to-morrow’s the day, I s’pose ?” 

“ Yes,” Jessie responded, dejectedly, “ it is.” 

‘‘ Hu — m — war, wal’, you don’t seem real 
animated about it, if you’ll excuse my saying so. 
I swan, I ’lowed you all would be right pleased 
to think the long waiting’s so nearly over.” 

‘‘It isn’t that,” Jessie told him, trying to 
keep her lips from quivering, “but — Joe has 
gone.” 

“What!” 

Jessie repeated the statement. 

“ Pshaw ! Now, that’s too bad !” Mr. Wilson 
exclaimed, rubbing his hair upright, as he 
always did when perplexed. “Wal’, I don’t 
know when I’ve heard anything more surpris- 
ing,” he continued, when Jessie had detailed the 
manner of Joe’s disappearance to him ; “ I’d a 
banked on that old man to the last breath o’ 
life. And he’s gone I Appearances are all-fired 


A VITAL POINT 


229 


deceivin’, that’s so, but don’t you grieve over it, 
girls ; it’ll all come out all right in the end. 
The old man has stayed right by you and helped 
you good since your pa was taken, but we must 
remember that he never was in the habit of 
tyin’ himself down to one place before this, and, 
more’ll likely ’s not, his old, rovin’ habits have 
suddenly proved too strong fer him, and he’s 
jest lit out because he couldn’t stan’ the pressure 
any longer.” 

But Joe is so faithful ; he has always been 
just like one of the family, and he knows so 
well how badly we need him,” I objected; “it 
does not seem possible for him to have deserted 
us.” 

“ Desert is a purty ha’sh word, Miss Leslie. 
There’s some mystery about it, take my word 
for it. Joe’ll be back again, and when he comes 
I’ll guarantee that he’ll be able to give some 
good reason for going away.” 

Jessie shook her head, tearfully. “I don’t 
believe he will ever come back,” she said. 

“ Wal’, s’pose he doesn’t ? I reckon you two 


230 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


ain’t goin’ to let go your grip on that account. 
But troubles do seem to kind o’ thicken around 
you ! That’s so.” 

He paused a moment, musing over our 
troubles, and Ealph took advantage of his 
silence to call his attention to the kitten with 
which one of the neighbors had presented him 
to the jealous torment of his old playfellow, the 
big cat : My new tat tan wink wiv bof he eyes, 
see ?” he proclaimed, holding the animal up for 
inspection. 

Yes, yes, I see, little feller,” was the absent 
reply. 

Encouraged, Ealph put the kitten on his lap. 
“ Her won’t bite ; ’oo needn’t be ’fraid,” he said. 

Mr. Wilson stroked the small cat mechani- 
cally and then lifted it to the ground — using its 
tail for a handle, to Ealph ’s speechless indig- 
nation — then he faced us again, his forehead 
puckered with anxious wrinkles : ‘‘ There’s one 
thing that I never thought of until early this 
morning — when I did, I hurried through with 
my chores and came right over here. It’s a 


A VITAL POINT 


231 


stunner to find that Joe’s gone, now, in addition 
to all the rest, but we must keep a stiff upper 
lip. Fact is. I’m to blame for not thinking of 
this thing six weeks — yes, three months ago. 
I ought to have thought of it, children,” he 
swept us all with a compassionate glance, the 
day that your father died. I’d be willing to bet 
a big sum, if I was a betting man — which I’m 
thankful to say that I ain’t — that Jake Horton 
thought of it, and has kept it well in mind all 
along ; he aiix!t the man to overlook such a 
thing as that.” Wiping his perplexed face with 
the red silk handkerchief that he always kept 
in his hat for that purpose, he continued, des- 
perately : “ This claim was taken up, lived on, 
built on, notices for proving up by Ralph C. 
Gordon. Ralph C. Gordon ! Wal’,” he ran his 
fingers again through his iron-gray hair, making 
it stand more defiantly upright than ever, ‘‘ there 
ain’t no Ralph C. Gordon !” 

The point that we had overlooked, presented 
to us now, for the first time, almost on the eve 
of our proving up, was of such vital importance,’ 


232 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


as it occurred to our awakened understanding, 
that, at first, we could do nothing but stare at 
each other, and at him, in stunned dismay. 
But hope, as that saving angel will, stirred, 
and began to brighten as our friend pro- 
ceeded. 

“ There are ways,’’ he said. I’ve been think- 
ing of some of ’em ; but I am desperate afraid 
that none of ’em will doT. The agent might, if 
he was disposed to be obligin’, transfer your 
father’s claim to you, Jessie, if you could swear 
that you are the head of a family, and that’s 
what you can’t do — not as the law requires it, 
you can’t. The law don’t recognize any one as 
the head of a family until of legal age. Even 
if you were of legal age, the agent might refuse, 
if he saw fit. If he should, all that you can 
do will be to file on the claim again and go in 
for another five years’ tussle with the home- 
steading problem. ’Pears like there was a j^retty 
fair prospect of your whole family coming of 
age before another siege of homesteading is 
ended. Why didn’t I think of all this before ? 


A VITAL POINT 


233 


^Cause I^m an old wooden head, I ’spose ! No, 
I’m mighty afeard that the only thing we can 
do is for you to jest go down and file on the 
land in your own name, and say nothing about 
age, if the agent asks no questions. As I said 
before, you’ll be old enough for anything before 
it comes time for a second proving up.” 

Jessie, who had been listening intently, here 
suddenly interposed with sparkling eyes, ‘‘ I’m 
old enough now, Mr. Wilson, or, at least, I shall 
be to-morrow. To-morrow is my birthday, and 
I shall be eighteen !” 

Mr. Wilson sprang up so suddenly that he 
overturned his chair, and sent Ralph’s new pet 
scurrying from the room in wild alarm. 

Hooray for us !” he cried, seizing Jessie’s 
hand. ‘‘ The Gordons forever ! Now we’re 
all right. I’ve felt certain all along that the 
agent would give you a deed if he could, but he 
couldn’t if you were all under age. ’Twouldn’t 
’a’ been legal. But if one of you is of legal 
age, the homestead business is settled.” 

‘‘ But suppose he should refuse to give us a 


234 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


deed on account of the claim’s standing in 
father’s name ?” Jessie asked. 

“ In that case the thing to do is to file on it 
again, right there and then, in your own name — 
strange, ain’t it,” he interjected, suddenly, “ that 
the law ’pears to declare that a girl’s as smart 
at eighteen as a boy is at twenty -one ? Wal’, the 
law don’t know everything ; you must go down 
there day after to-morrow, prepared to enter the 
claim again, though I do hope it won’t come to 
that.” 

‘‘That will cost a good deal, too, won’t it?” 
Jessie inquired, dejectedly. 

“Yes; it will. I don’t see but you must go 
down with money enough not only to pay up the 
final fees, but to file on the land again in case of 
the agent’s refusal.” 

“Will that take more than the fees would 
amount to ?” I inquired. 

“ Bless you, yes ! I don’t know jest how much, 
but a right smart. How much have you got 
now ?” 

It needed no reckoning to tell the sum total 


A VITAL POINT 


235 


of our painfully garnered hoard. Mr. Wilson 
shook his head when Jessie named the sum total. 
“ Not enough ; not enough, by half ! And, as 
the worst luck will have it, I’m clean out of 
money myself jest now. I declare, I don’t see 
where my money all goes ! It don’t ’pear to 
matter how much I may have one day, it’s all 
gone the next; beats all, it does!” He looked 
at us solemnly, sitting with his lips pursed up, 
his hair standing bolt upright, and his brows 
knit over the problem of his own financial short- 
age, yet, to one who knew him, no problem was 
of easier solution. Up and down the length 
and breadth of the valley, in miner’s lonely 
cabin, in cowboy’s rough shack, or struggling 
rancher’s rude domicile — wherever a helpful 
friend was needed, Mr. AVilson was known and 
loved, and, if money was needed, all that he had 
was freely given. So it was no surprise to learn 
that he was suffering from temporary financial 
embarrassment at a time when he would have 
liked, as usual, to help a friend. 

“ Say,” he suddenly exclaimed, starting from 


236 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


his troubled reverie; ‘‘in order to make all 
safe, youVe got to have money enough to file 
on that land when you go down ; there’s no ‘ if ’s ’ 
nor ‘and’s’ about that ! Your father would never 
’a’ hesitated a minute about borrowing the money 
for such a purpose, if he had it to do. Now, Jim 
Jackson — over Archeleuta way — he’s owing me 
quite a consid’able. I’ll go over there to-day 
and see what I can do with him. He’ll helj^ us 
out if he can, but he’s been having sickness in 
his family, and maybe he can’t ; we’ll have to 
take our chances. I do’ no’s a hold-up is ever 
justifiable,” he continued, with a humorous 
twinkle in his bright eyes ; “ but if it is, this 
would be one of the times. I hope we won’t be 
drove to that !” 

He took his departure shortly after, going 
back home to exchange his team — to the detri- 
ment of his own affairs, I’m afraid^ — for a saddle- 
horse, the better to perform the somewhat haz- 
ardous journey up “Archeleuta way,” but, 
before goiilg, he enjoined us, if we had any 
written proof of tlessie’s coming of age on the 


A VITAL POINT 


237 


morrow, to look it up and have it in readiness 
to offer in evidence, in case the fact were ques- 
tioned. 

‘‘ Your coming of age to-morrow is of so much 
importance that it seems almost too good to be 
true,” he said, earnestly. 

So, after he had gone, Jessie took the big 
family Bible down from the book shelf, and, 
opening the book, turned to the pages where the 
Gordon family record had been carefully kept 
for many years. We knew, of course, that 
there could be no mistake, but it was pleasant 
to see the proof of our security in indisputable 
black and white. 

I’m afraid that Mr. Wilson will get nothing 
out of the Jacksons,” Jessie remarked, as we 
turned away from a prolonged inspection of the 
record ; he has had bad luck, and I heard, the 
other day, that Ted had broken his arm.” 

‘‘ I’m not going to be afraid about anything 
now,” I declared valiantly. “ I’m sure we’ll 
come out all right. Mercy on us ! What was 
that ?” I broke off, as a chorus of mingled out- 


238 


TWO WYOMING GIELS 


cries came to our ears. Outside the doorway 
there appeared to be, judging by the sound, a 
lively commotion, in which cat, dog, and boy 
were each bearing a part. We ran out in alarm 
and found Ralph just picking himself up off the 
ground upon which he seemed to have been 
thrown with some force. 

Ralph, unnoticed in the interest of our talk 
with Mr. Wilson, had been amusing himself in 
his own way. His way had been to overturn 
the empty bushel basket and put it over Guard, 
who was lying by the doorstep. Guard had 
submitted to imprisonment with placid indif- 
ference until it came to Ralph^s thrusting the new 
cat in with him ; this he instantly resented, so, to 
insure the dog’s staying within, Ralph had 
climbed upon the basket. Whereupon Guard 
sprang up, overturning both jail and jailor. The 
liberated cat fled with all speed, and Guard 
walked off in disgust. 

‘‘ What on earth are you trying to do ?” I de- 
manded. 

Ralph raised his violet eyes soberly to 


A VITAL POINT 


239 


my face as he replied : ‘‘ Us was havin^ a 
round-up; now us all ’tampeded,” and the 
violet eyes were drenched with raindrops, as the 
little cattleman threw himself on the ground, 
sobbing. 

“Never mind, darling, your herd will all 
come home,^^ I said, consolingly. 

“ Me don’t want ’em to turn back ; me’s so 
mad !” was the uncompromising reply. 


CHAPTER XIX 


MR. HORTON MAKES US A VISIT 

Late that same evening Mr. Wilson called 
again. He was on his way home, and stopped 
to tell us — with evident chagrin — that his mis- 
sion had been a failure. 

‘‘ You’ll have to take the trail in the morning, 
Leslie, and see what you can do,” he said, as he 
went away. 

The cows broke out of the corral that night, 
and it took so long to hunt them up, get them 
back into the corral, and milk them, that it was 
quite the middle of the day when I was ready 
to start out on my unwelcome business. Try as 
I might to convince myself to the contrary, the 
effort to borrow money seemed to me, somehow, 
akin to beggary. In my heart I had a cowardly 
wish that Joe had been on hand to take my 
place, but I kept all such reflections to myself. 
I had changed my print dress for the worn old 
240 


MK. HORTON MAKES US A VISIT 241 

riding habit of green serge, and was about start- 
ing for the barn to get Frank, when Jessie 
remarked : 

“ While you are hunting for a chance to 
borrow money. I’ll be earning some. If I can 
finish this work to-day — it’s Annie Ellis’ 
wrapper — I’ll have two dollars to add to the 
fund. Why, Leslie, I’d pretty nearly sell the 
dress off my back to raise money to-day !” 

‘‘Well, I know I’d do that, with half the 
reason for it that we have now. Dresses are a 
bother, anyway” — my habit was too short and 
too tight, not having kept pace with my growth 
— “ but, all the same, I hate to see you working 
so hard. You’ve really grown thin and pale 
lately,” I added. 

“ It won’t be for long; I’ll soon be through 
with it now — ” Jessie was beginning, when a 
cheerful voice from the doorway echoed her 
words : 

“ No ; it won’t be for long ! That’s a comfort, 
ain’t it ?” 

We both started. We had been so engrossed 
16 


242 


TWO WYOMING GIRL^ 


that we had heard no one approaching, and, even 
if we had, we could scarcely have been less 
startled, for the man leaning comfortably against 
the door-jamb was Jacob Horton. It had been 
many weeks since he had, to our knowledge, set 
foot on our premises. 

‘‘ Good morning. Miss Jessie and Leslie,” he 
began affably. Nice morning, ain’t it ? I’ve 
been living in this valley going on eight year, 
and I don’t recollect as ever I see a nicer 
mornin’ than this is.” 

He put one foot upon the door sill — a sug- 
gestive attitude — but neither of us invited him to 
enter. He was not easily daunted, however. 
The hand that rested against the door-jamb was 
still bandaged, and, as I made out with a swift 
glance, a button was still missing from his coat. 
It was the coat that he had worn on the night 
that he had ostensibly salted the cattle in the far 
pasture. From his point of observation Mr. 
Horton, turning slightly, threw an admiring 
glance around. The glance seemed to include the 
outer prospect as well as the inner. 


MK. HORTON MAKES US A VISIT 243 

“This is a sightly place for a house, aint it?’' 
he remarked. “ I do’no — I really do’no but I’d 
like that knoll t’other side the river just as well, 
though, and it would be nigher the spring. I’ll 
speak to my wife about it; if she likes this 
spot better, why, here our house goes up. I 
shan’t object. We can move this contraption 
that your father built, back for a hen house, or 
a pig-pen ; just as she says. I always try to 
please my wife.” 

“ When you get ready, perhaps you’ll kindly 
tell us what you are talking about, Mr. Horton,” 
Jessie said, rising from the sewing machine and 
going toward the door, whither I followed 
her. 

“ Tell you ? Oh, yes, I forgot. Of course you 
girls can’t be expected to know — young as you 
be — that you can’t hold this claim. This 
claim was open for re-entry the day that your 
father was drowned. I wasn’t ready to take it 
up just then ; I am ready now. Odd, ain’t it? 
I’ve been bearin’ some talk — my wife told me, 
in fact — that you girls had laid out to go down 


244 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


to the land office with your witnesses to offer 
final proof to-morrow; Well, now — he, he ! 
That^s a regular joke, for if you’ll believe it, to- 
morrow’s the day I’ve set to go down and file on 
this claim, ’count of it’s being vacant ! I don’t 
’spose, now, that you girls are reely in earnest 
about trying to keep the place ? It would be a 
sight of trouble to you, even if the law would 
allow it, which it won’t.” 

“ Why not, Mr. Horton ?” I asked. 

‘‘Why not? Wal’, I don’t know just why; 
I didn’t make the homestead laws — reasonable 
laws they be, though ; I couldn’t ’a’ made better 
ones myself — but I can tell you two girls one 
big, fundamental clause, so to speak, of the 
Homestead Act, under which you don’t come — 
yes, two of ’em. First, foremost, and enough to 
swamp your whole outfit, if there was nothing 
else, you ain’t neither of you of age. Second, 
not being of age, you ain’t neither of you the 
head of a family.” 

I looked at Mr. Horton’s bandaged hand, and 
a thrill of genuine delight went through me, as 


MR. HORTON MAKES US A VISIT 245 

I hastened to dispute one of his fundamental 
clauses. 

‘‘ Jessie is the head of a family, Mr. Horton — 
Ralph and I are her family.’’ 

Maybe ! Maybe ! I ’spose, no doubt, you 
regard yourselves in that light. No harm’s 
done, as long as you keep it to yourselves, but 
you’ll find that the law won’t recognize you in 
that way. The law’s everlastin’ partic’lar about 
such things. But, again, there’s the matter of 
your both being under age ! Now, what a mis- 
fortune that is to you — s’posing that you’re in 
earnest about wanting to keep this place, but I 
reckon you ain’t — if you recollect, you two, I’ve 
always said that I’d have this j^lace. It may 
save you some trouble and expense, if I say right 
here and now, that I mean to have it ! I mean 
to have it ! Don’t forget that ! But I ain’t a 
hard man — not at all — and I’m willing to make 
it as easy as I can for you. Why, I could ’a’ 
filed on this any time since your pa died, but I 
didn’t, and why not?” 

“If you ask me,” I said, speaking very 


246 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


quietly, though I was trembling with indigna- 
tion, I suppose you didn’t file on it because 
you thought it would be better to let us get a 
crop in before you did it ; then you could steal 
the crop along with the place.” 

Leslie !” Jessie exclaimed, aghast. 

But Mr. Horton’s thin lips parted in a wolfish 
smile. Oh — ho ! you’re up on the homestead 
laws to some extent, I see. Crops do go with 
the land when the claimant forfeits his right to 
the land that bears them. Your father, he for- 
feited his right by getting drownded, and no one 
has entered the claim since, so I’m about to 
enter it. As I said before I ain’t a hard man, 
and I’m willing to make it as easy as I can for 
you, so I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll pay a fair 
price for such improvements as your father made. 
They don’t amount to much — ” 

. “ But if you should decide to commute the 
claim, instead of waiting five years to prove up, 
it would be worth a good deal to you to be able 
to swear that such and such things had stood on 
the place so long, which you could not do if we 


MR. HORTON MAKES US A VISIT 247 

took our improvements away ; for we have a 
right to remove whatever we have built, if we 
do not keep the claim.” 

Mr. Horton^s narrow eyes rested on me with 
anything but a friendly expression. You’re 
posted quite a consid’able ; ain’t you, Miss 
Smarty ? Pity you didn’t know jest a little 
mite more. Well ; we won’t quarrel over a 
little thing like that. I’ll pay for the improve- 
ments, and you’ll jest leave ’em where they are. 
This house, now. I’ll take a look at it ; it don’t 
amount to much, that’s so, but such as ’tis. I’ll 
look at it.” 

‘‘ You are welcome to do so,” Jessie assured 
him. 

I think it came into her mind, as it certainly 
did into mine, that he wished to ascertain if the 
house were not lacking in some one or more of 
the essential equipments of a homesteader’s 
claim. If he should discover such a lack his task 
would be all the easier. I ran over a hasty, fur- 
tive inventory on my fingers : Cat, clock, table, 
chairs, stove — ” 


248 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


The cat was lying comfortably outstretched 
on the window ledge, her head resting on the 
open pages of the Bible, that we had both neg- 
lected to replace. The clock ticked loudly from 
its place on the mantlepiece ; there was a fire in 
the stove, and, absorbed in staring, Mr. Horton 
stumbled over one of the chairs. The result of 
his inspection did not please him ; he scowled 
at the cat, who resented his glance by springing 
from the window and hissing sj)itefully at his 
legs as she passed him on her way out. Her 
sudden spring drew our visitor’s attention to the 
book on which her head had been resting ; the 
written pages attracted his notice. 

“ What’s that ?” he demanded, going nearer, 
the better to examine them. 

That is our family Bible,” Jessie replied, 
laying her hand upon it reverently. “ This ” — 
she looked up at him with a kind of still, pale 
defiance — this is the Gordon family record ! It 
has been kept in these pages since the days of 
our great-great-grandfather, and ” — she turned 
the book so that Mr. Horton’s eyes rested on the 


MR. HORTON MAKES US A VISIT 249 

entry — it may interest you to know that I am 
eighteen, of legal age, to-day.” 

Mr. Horton^s jaw dropped, and for a speech- 
less instant he looked the picture of blank 
amazement, then he rallied. 

‘^Records can lie,” he declared, brutally. 

You don’t look eighteen, Jessie Gordon, and 
I don’t believe you are. It’s a likely story, ain’t 
it now, that you should happen to be of age on 
the very day, almost, that it’s a matter of life or 
death, as one might say, that you should be ! 
No, that’s too thin; it won’t wash. You’ve 
made a little mistake in your entry, that’s all. 
One of them convenient mistakes that folks are 
apt to make when it’s to their interest to do so.” 

‘‘As there is no man here to kick you out of 
the house, I suppose you feel at liberty to say 
whatever comes into your wicked head, and we 
must bear it !” Jessie said, her voice shaken with 
anger. 

In spite of himself, Mr. Horton winced at 
that. “ I ain’t one to take advantage of your 
being helpless,” he declared, virtuously . “You’ve 


250 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


no call to hint as much. But you know as well 
as I do that you don’t look a day over sixteen, 
if you do that, and you couldn’t make nobody — 
no land agent — believe that you are of age, if 
you didn’t have that record to swear by.” 

As we do have it, it will probably answer 
our purpose.” 

Oh, well ; maybe ’twill ; maybe ’twill !” his 
glance ranged up and down the window, where 
lay the book with its irrefutable evidence. 
Then his eyes fell, and his tones changed to 
blandness once more. I must be going,” he 
announced, edging toward the door; ‘‘ I was 
passing along, and an idee popped into my head. 
You’ve been to some expense in helping to find 
your pa’s body — though why you should ’a’ 
been so set on finding it, nobody knows ; folks 
is so cur’ous, that way ! If it had been my case, 
I reckon my folks would ’a’ had sense enough 
to leave me where I was — ” 

“ I am sure they would — gladly !” I inter- 
posed, quickly. 

Mr. Horton shot an evil glance in my direc- 


MR. HORTON MAKES US A VISIT 251 


tion, and went on : “ Well, you’ve been to some 
expense, and the mines have shut down so’s’t 
that old crackerjack of a nigger that hangs 
’round your place is out of work. I’m going to 
pre-empt this place — none o’ your slack-twisted 
homestead rights for me — and I tliought it 
would be neighborly if I was to step in and tell 
you, Jess, that my wife’s wanting a hired girl. 
She was speaking of it last night, and the 
thought came into my head right off, though I 
didn’t mention it to her, that you was going to 
need a home, and there was your chance. Being 
so young and inexperienced — for you don’t look 
eighteen, no — I reckon you’d be willing to 
work without any more wages than jest your 
board and lodging until you had kind o’ got 
trained into doing things our way.” 

“I’m afraid that I should never earn any 
wages at anything — not if I were to live a thou- 
sand years, if I had to be trained to do things 
your way first!” Jessie told him, with flashing 
eyes. 

“ Oh, that’s all right ; you’ll get over some 


252 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


of your high notions when you get to be a 
hired girl. You’ll prob’ly acquire the orna- 
ment of a meek and quiet spirit, same’s the 
Bible speaks of, and it’s one that you ain’t 
got at present. As for you ” — he turned on me 
savagely, and it was evident that he held me in 
even less esteem than he did my sister — you 
can get out, and that brat ” — he glared at Ralj^h, 
who had drawn near, and was regarding him 
with a kind of solemn, impersonal interest— 
‘‘you can get shet of him easy enough — you 
can send him to the poor-house.” 


CHAPTER XX 


GUARD MAKES A MISTAKE 

Mr. Horton was returning to the charge 
when I eagerly caught at an opportunity that 
now presented itself, of speeding his departure. 
He was standing with his back to the open door, 
and had not observed, as we did, that his horse 
— contrary to the usual habit of mountain 
ponies — was not standing patiently where his 
master had left him. 

Weary of waiting, he was walking away along 
the homeward road as rapidly as the dangling 
bridle reins would allow. 

Mr. Horton,” I said, “ your horse is leav- 
ing.” A wicked impulse forced me to add : ‘‘ I 
am sure you would hate to lose your horse here 
- — as you did a coat button, one night not so long 
ago. 

It was a reckless speech to make, as I felt 
when I looked at him. His face turned of a 

253 


254 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


livid pallor ; lie looked murderous as lie stood 
in his tracks, glaring at me. He was, I am 
certain, afraid to trust himself to speak, or to 
remain near me. He bounded out of the house 
shouting “ Whoa ! Whoa !’’ as he ran. Guard 
was dozing by the doorstep. Mr. Horton’s 
action and call were so sudden that he sprang up, 
wide awake, looking eagerly around, under the 
impression that his services were in requisition. 
Though nearly full grown he was still a puppy, 
with many things to learn. The horse, also 
startled by Mr. Horton’s outcry, raised his head, 
turning it from side to side as he looked back in 
search of the creature that had made such a 
direful noise. He quickened his pace into a 
trot, checked painfully whenever he stepped on 
the trailing bridle. 

An older and wiser dog than Guard, seeing 
the saddle and the trailing bridle, would have 
known better than to attempt to practice his 
heeling ” accomplishments on the animal that 
wore them. But Guard, eager to air his lately - 
acquired knowledge, stopped for no such con- 


GUARD MAKES A MISTAKE 255 

siderations. Passing Mr. Horton, who was run- 
ning after the horse, like a flash, he made a bee- 
line for that gentleman’s mount. Reaching the 
animal, he crouched and bit one of his heels 
sharply. As the horse bounded away, he fol- 
lowed, nipping the flying heels and yelping 
with excitement. Mr. Horton toiled along in 
their rear and I ran after him — not actuated by 
any strong desire to come to his assistance, but 
in fear of what might happen should he succeed 
in laying hands on Guard. The very set of his 
vanishing shoulders told me that he was purple 
with rage and fatigue, and I had good cause to 
fear for the safety of the dog, to whom I called 
and whistled, imploringly. After a chase of 
about half a mile. Guard, making a wide detour 
around Mr. Horton, came slinking back to me. 
He was evidently troubled with misgivings as 
to the propriety of his conduct, and crouched in 
the dust at my feet, looking up at me with beau- 
tiful beseeching eyes. “You did very, very 
wrong !” I admonished him, earnestly. “ You 
are never — ne-ver — to heel a horse that 


256 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


has a saddle or bridle on. Do you under- 
stand T' 

Guard hung his head dejectedly, his bright 
eyes seeming to say that he understood, and 
would profit by the lesson. 

E-eturning to the house I went in again instead 
of mounting the waiting horse and getting about 
my delayed errand. 

‘‘ Did Mr. Horton catch his horse Jessie 
inquired. 

“ I don’t know ; I hope not, I’m sure. I think 
a five-mile walk will do him good. He’ll have 
time to cool off a little.” 

“ He thinks that we have made a false entry 
here,” Jessie went on, resentfully, approaching 
the window ledge and turning the leaves of the 
record. ‘‘ Why,” she continued, “ it does not 
seem to me that even a hardened criminal would 
dare to do a thing like that ! And I’m not a 
hardened criminal — yet. I am not sure but that 
I might become one if I am obliged to see much 
of Mr. Horton, though !” She closed the book 
and, stepping up on a chair, laid it on the shelf 


GUARD MAKES A MISTAKE 


257 


where our few books were kept. When she 
stepped down again she had another book in her 
arms. It was a large, square, leather-bound 
volume, almost identical in appearance with the 
one that she had just laid away. 

‘‘ What are you looking in the dictionary 
for 1 asked, as she laid the book on the 
broad window ledge that made such a conve- 
nient reading-desk. 

“ I want to know exactly what ‘ fundamental * 
means,’’ she replied. I know pretty well, or 
I think I do, but I want to know exactly.” 

Finding the word, she presently read aloud : 

‘^Fundamental — pertaining to the foundation; 
hence, essential, elementary ; a leading or pri- 
mary principle ; an essential.’” 

“ Well, that’s plain enough,” she said, closing 
the book ; “ but I think we have looked out for 
fundamental clauses pretty faithfully. I wish , 
that Joe was at home ; we must get an early 
start to-morrow. It is foolish to feel so, when 
we know just how matters stand ; but, somehow, 
Mr. Horton’s threats have made me uneasy.” 

17 


258 


TWO WYOMIISTG GIRLS 


“ No wonder ! The very sight of him is 
enough to make one shudder. But I don^t see 
that there is anything that we can do, more 
than we are doing, Jessie.” 

‘‘ You might ride over, since you are going 
out anyway, and tell Mr. Wilson what Mr. 
Horton has been saying. If you call on Mr. 
Drummond, who is our main hope for raising 
the money, you'll pass Wilson's, anyway.” 

“Oh, yes! I'll see him, sure; and now I 
must be going.” 

I went out accordingly, observing in an absent 
way, as I left the room, that, since no funda- 
mental clause required Jessie to replace the 
dictionary on its shelf, it was still lying on the 
window-ledge. 

I rode immediately over to Mr. Wilson's, and 
was fortunate in finding him at home. He 
promised to “ turn the thing over in his mind,” 
and, if there seemed to him, as a result of this 
process, anything, any new move, called for on 
our part, to ride over during the day and let us 
know. 


GUAKD MAKES A MISTAKE 


259 


Then I went on to the two or three places that 
we had in mind as most promising, if one de- 
sired to raise money, and failed distinctly, in 
every case. It was, as one of the ranchmen 
feelingly explained, a dry time ; between hay 
and grass. Too late for the spring round-up 
and too early for the fall harvest.’’ Every one 
was, accordingly, lacking in ready cash. 

I returned home, not greatly dejected by my 
failure, since, thanks to Mr. Wilson, I had so 
well understood the existing conditions before 
starting out that I would have been surprised 
if I had succeeded. ^ 

Joe being still absent, I was obliged to care 
for Frank myself. When, in the dusky twi- 
light, I at length entered the house, it was to 
find little Kalph already fast asleep and Jessie 
about starting for the corral with the milk 
pail. 

‘‘Haven’t you got the milking done yet, 
Jessie ?” 

“ No ; I waited for Ealph to get to sleep and 
for you to come. Did you get any money ?” 


260 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


No/^ 

Jessie sighed. ‘‘I don’t know, after all, that 
I much ex|)ected that you would. Well, if you 
can wait a little for your supper, come out to the 
corral and let me tell you what Mr. Wilson has 
been saying.” 

‘‘ Has he been here again ?” 

‘‘Yes; he just left a few minutes before you 
came.” 

We went on out to the corral where the cows 
were waiting to be milked. Guard following 
after us with as much sedateness and dignity as 
if he had never contemplated, much less com- 
mitted, a foolish act in his life. 


CHAPTER XXI 


A FRIEND IN NEED 

Jessie seated herself on the milking-stool by 
old Cleo’s side, while I leaned against the corral 
bars, watching her. 

You’re tired, aren’t you, Leslie ?” she asked, 
glancing up at me, as under her nimble fingers, 
the streams of milk began to rattle noisily into 
the pail. 

“ Yes ; I am, rather. I think I’m some disap- 
pointed too, maybe. What did Mr. Wilson say ?” 

“ He said that my best plan — for it must go 
in my name, now — is to get to town to-morrow 
before Mr. Horton does, explain to the agent 
about father’s death — he must have heard of it, 
Mr. Wilson says, but he is not obliged to take 
official note of a thing that has not been re- 
ported to him, and that he has only heard of 
incidentally — and ask him to make out the deed 
to me, as the present head of the family. Mr. 

261 


262 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


Wilson says that I must be there, ready to tell 
my story, the minute the office opens. He 
hopes that, in that way, we may frustrate Mr. 
Horton, who is likely, he says, to be one of the 
very first on hand to-morrow morning. After I 
have explained matters to the agent, he will be 
forced to wait the arrival of my witnesses, of 
course, before he can do anything. But Mr. 
Wilson thinks that anything that Mr. Horton 
may say, after the agent has seen me, and heard 
my story, will be likely to work in my favor, it 
will show so plainly what Mr. Horton is up to. 
Mr. Wilson says that I had better take a horse 
and start for town to-morrow, just as soon as it 
is light enough to see.’’ 

Twenty miles !” I said. How long will 
it take you to ride it ?” I knew how long it 
would take me, on Frank’s back, but Jessie is 
less wonted to the saddle than I.- 

‘‘ It will take me nearly four hours, I should 
think, shouldn’t you ?” She stopped milking 
while she looked at me, anxiously awaiting my 
reply. 


A FRIEND IN NEED 


263 


“ Just about that, Jessie/^ 

‘‘ It would kill me to kee]) up such a gait as 
you and Frank seem to both take delight in,^’ 
she continued. “ So I must be poking along 
for four hours doing the distance that you could 
cover in two. The Land Office opens at seven 
o’clock — there’s a rush of business just now, Mr. 
Wilson says — and I must start not later than 
half-past two.” 

Dear me, Jessie, I hate to have you start out 
alone in the night, that way !” 

don’t like it very well myself,” Jessie ad- 
mitted. ‘‘ But Mr. Wilson thought we’d better 
not say a word to any one about my going — lest 
it should get to Mr. Horton’s ears some way, and 
he will drive around later in the morning and 
pick up the witnesses and bring them down. 
Oh, and Leslie, above all things, . don’t forget 
the Bible. Be sure to put that in the wagon 
when Mr. Wilson comes.” 

“ Certainly I shall ! Do you imagine that I 
would forget the one ‘fundamental clause’ of 
our proving up ?” 


264 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


“ No, of course you wouldn’t. Mr. Wilson 
said that he would go down with me — we could 
drive his fast horse down in the light cart, if 
only Joe were here to bring down our witnesses. 
But he isn’t, and I must go alone.” 

It was evident that Jessie did not relish the 
prospect of taking a lonely night ride. 

“ I will leave the money — what little there is 
of it — for Mr. Wilson to bring down,” Jessie 
presently remarked. ‘‘ Then, if I am held up, 
we will have saved that much, anyhow.” 

‘‘ And much good it will do us, with our Fun- 
damental Clause in the hands of brigands,” I re- 
torted laughingly. For, indeed, there was about 
as much danger of a hold-up as of an earth- 
quake. 

‘‘ What a fuss you are making, Guard — what’s 
the matter?” Jesse said, in a tone of remon- 
strance, as she resumed the milking. The dog 
had been looking toward the house, growling 
and bristling, for some minutes. His response 
to Jessie’s remonstrance was a tumultuous rush 
toward the house, around the corner of which 


A FRIEND IN NEED 


265 


he disappeared. Presently we saw him bound- 
ing away into the oak scrub beyond, apparently 
in hot pursuit of some retreating object, for his 
voice, breaking out occasionally in angry clamor, 
soon died away in the distance. 

‘‘ I hope there isn^t another wildcat after the 
chickens,’^ Jessie remarked, as, the milking 
finished, we started toward the house. 

don’t think it’s a wildcat,” I said; ‘‘from 
all the legends we have heard lately, a wildcat 
would have stood its ground : more likely it was 
a polecat.” 

Entering the house that we had left vacant, 
save for the sleeping child in the bedroom, we 
were startled at sight of a dusky, silent figure, 
sitting motionless before the fire — for, in the 
mountain country, a blaze is always welcome 
after nightfall, even in midsummer. At the 
sound of our approaching footsteps the figure 
turned toward us a head crowned with white 
wool, and smiled benignly. 

“ Joe !” we both cried, in a breath. 

“Joe I is!” returned the old man, placidly. 


266 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


stretching his gnarled hands toward the blaze, 
and grinning delightedly ; I reckon you all 
begin fur to projec’ ‘ Wharfs Joe T long ’bout 
dish yer time o’ day, so I done p’inted my tracks 
in dish yer way.” 

‘‘ It must have been you that Guard was 
barking at,” I said, stirring the fire into a 
brighter blaze. 

No ; hit wa’nt me. I yeard his racketin’ as 
I come up along. Hit war’ some udder varmint, 
I reckons. What fur he want ter bark at me ?” 

‘‘True enough. Well, we’re just awful glad 
you’ve come back, Joe,” Jessie told him. “ Leslie 
has been out all the afternoon and she hasn’t had 
her supper. I waited for her before eating mine, 
so now I’ll fix yours on this little table beside 
the fire and we can all eat at the same time.” 

Joe accepted the proposition thankfully, and, 
after seeing him comfortably established, we 
seated ourselves at the large table near the win- 
dow. I was hungry after my long ride and fell 
to with a will, but I presently observed that 
Jessie ate nothing. 


A FRIEND IN NEED 


267 


‘‘Why don’t you eat your supper, Jessie?” 

“ I can’t,” she replied, pushing away her 
plate ; “ I’m so worried. Leslie, have you thought 
that if the agent refuses to issue a deed to us we 
shall have no home? I feel just sure of it, for 
we haven’t money enough to re-enter the claim, 
hire a surveyor, and all that.” 

“ Must there be a new survey made ?” 

“ So Mr. Wilson says ; he says that it will be 
the same, in the eye of the law, as if no entry 
had ever been made.” 

“The eye of the law must be half blind, 
then !” I exclaimed, indignantly. “ As if the 
survey already made and paid for, was not good 
enough, and when we know that a new one 
would only follow the same lines !” 

“That’s just what I said to Mr. Wilson.* He 
said that surveyors had to have a chance to earn 
their living, and this way of doing business was 
one of the chances,” Jessie replied, dropping 
her head dejectedly on her hand. 

“ Well ; don’t let’s worry about it, Jessie dear, 
we must keep on hoping, as father used to say. 


268 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


He used to say, you know, that no one was ever 
really poor until he had ceased to hope. We 
will do our best and God will look out for the 
rest, I guess. I don’t believe He intends to let 
our home be taken from us. He wouldn’t have 
given us such good men for witnesses if He 
had.” 

‘‘Yes, they are good. If we were only able 
to borrow a little more money now I should feel 
quite safe. If we could just borrow money 
enough to — ” 

“ Woe unto him that goeth up an’ down de 
Ian’ seeking fur t’ borrow money ! Borrowed 
money, hit stingeth like an adder ; hit hiteth 
like a surpunt ! Hit weaves a chain what bin’s 
hit’s victims ban’ an’ foot! Hit maketh a 
weight what breaks his heart, ameti !” 

In the interest of our conversation we had, 
for the nonce, forgotten Joe, who was quietly 
toasting his ragged shoes before the fire, until 
his voice thus solemnly proclaimed his presence. 

“ Dat’s w’at ole Mas’r Gordon, yo’ chillen’s 
gran’fadder, used fur t’ say, an’ hit’s true. Hit’s 


A FRIEND IN NEED 


269 


true ! He knowed ; Good Heaven, didn’t he 
know !” 

There was the tragedy of some remembered 
bitter suffering in the old man’s voice, and, re- 
calling father’s stern determination to endure all 
things, to lose all things, if need be, rather than 
to become a borrower, I felt that the misery 
hinted at in old Joe’s words had been something 
very real and poignant in the days of those 
Gordons, now beyond all suffering. 

‘‘ Hit may be,” continued the old man re- 
flectively, ‘‘dat I ain’ got all dem verses 
jess right, but dat was deir senses. W’at 
s’prises me. Miss Jessie, is dat yo’ alls is 
talkin’ ob wantin’ fur to borrow money, too. 
W’at fur yo’ wan’ ter borry money, w’en de’re’s 
a plenty in de fambly ? A plenty ob hit, yes. 
W’at yo’ reckons I’s been doin’ all dese yer 
weeks, off an on ? T’inks I’s a ’possum, an’ 
doan know w’en hit’s time ter come t’ life ? 
Ain’ I been a knowin’ ’bout dish yer Ian’ busi- 
ness an’ a gittin’ ready fur hit, ebber sense long 
’fore Mas’r Ralph was took. I didn’t git 


270 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


drownded w’en he did — wish’t I had, I does — 
an' long 'fore dat, I'se been sabin' up my wages 
agin a time w'en Mas'r Ralph goin' need 'em 
wustest. I reckoned he goin' need 'em w'en hit 
comes to de provin' up on dish yer claim. Hit 
doan tek' much ter keep a ole nigger like me, an' 
I ain' been crippled wid de rheumatiz so bad 
until 'long dis summah, an' so, chillen, I'se done 
got five hundred dollahs in de bank at Fa'play, 
fo' de credit ob Mas'r Ralph Gordon — dat's yo's 
now. Miss Jessie, honey, cause yo's ob age." 

Joe had remembered that important fact, too, 
it seemed. We could only stare at him in 
speechless amazement, while he concluded, ab- 
ruptly : So do'an let's heah no more fool talk 
'bout borrowin' money. We's got a plenty, I 
tells yo'. I been a-keepin' hit in de bank at 
Arnold — whar' Mas'r Ralph an' me stopped fur 
quite a spell 'afore we done come yer — an' so, a 
few days ago, I done slipped ober to Arnold an' 
drawed de money out, an' put it in de bank at 
Fa'hplay, subject to de order ob Miss Jessie 
Gordon — dat's yo', honey," he added, as if fear- 


A FKIEND IN NEED 


271 


ful that Jessie might not recognize herself under 
this formal appellation. He was holding his 
coffee-cup suspended, half-way to his lips, while 
he looked at us exultantly, and then we both 
expressed our feelings in a characteristic manner. 
I ran to him, and threw my arms around his neck. 

‘‘ Oh, Joe ! Joe ! you are an angel I 
sobbed, dropping my head on his shoulder. 

‘‘ Maybe I is,^^ the old man admitted, stiffly, 
edging away ; “ but if dere\s airy angel, w’ite 
or black, w^at likes ter hab hot coffee spilled 
obber his laigs, I ain’ nebber met up wid him !” 

‘‘ Tl\ get you another cup, Joe,’’ I said, laugh- 
ing, as I brushed away my tears. While I was 
getting it, Jessie clung to his rough old hand. 

‘‘God bless you, Joe! Oh, you have lifted 
such a weight from my heart ! I don’t know how 
to thank you ; but Joe, we’ll pay it all back to 
you ! We will, if it takes the place to do it I” 

Joe, freeing his hand from her clasp, rose to 
his feet — not stiffly, this time, but with a certain 
grave dignity. Motioning aside the coffee that 
I was bringing, he picked his ragged old hat up 


272 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


from the floor beside his chair, put it on, pulled 
it down over his eyes, and started for the door. 

‘‘ ^Fore Heaben ! I wouldn’t V beliebed dat 
one ob Mars’r Ralph Gordon’s chillen gwine 
fur insult me like dis !” he muttered, huskily ; 
‘‘ Talk ob payin’ me ! Me, like I was a stranger, 
an’ didn’ belong to de fambly !” 

‘‘ Wait !” cried Jessie, springing forward, as 
the old man laid a trembling hand on the door 
knob. ‘‘Wait, sit down, Joe, dear Joe, don’t 
desert us when we need you most ! As for the 
money, God bless you for making sure of our 
home, for, of course, it’s your home, too, always, 
always ! And I’ll never pay a cent of the money 
back ; not if I use it all !” 

“ Yo’s gwine hab to use hit all, honey,” Joe 
returned, with a beaming face, as he resumed 
his seat. “ Dere’s de fence buildin’ an’ breakin’ 
de new groun’, and de seedin’.” 

“ True enough ! Oh, we shall come out all 
right, now, thanks to you, Joe.” 

And Jessie spoke with the happy little laugh 
that we had not heard for a long, long time. 


CHAPTER XXII 


AN OPEN WINDOW 

It was, apart from the pecuniary relief that 
his coming had brought us, a great satisfaction 
to have old Joe again with us. Remembering 
his habit of not speaking until he was, as he 
sometimes expressed it, “ plumb ready,” we for- 
bore to ask any more questions until he had 
finished his supper, and smoked his pipe after- 
ward. Smoking is a bad habit, I know, but 
I am afraid that there are few good habits 
from which people derive more comfort than fell 
to Joe when he was puffing contentedly away at 
his old clay pipe. After, a long interval of 
blissful enjoyment he knocked the ashes out 
of his pipe, pocketed it, and then remarked, 
rather wistfully, apparently to the fire as 
much as to either of us : ‘‘I reckons he’s fas’ 
asleep, shore’ nuff I” He ” meant Ralph, of 
course. 


18 


273 


274 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


‘‘ Yes/^ Jessie said, lie’s been asleep ever 
since a little while before dark.” 

“ Yo’ reckons hit gwine fur ’sturb him, jess 
fur me ter tek’ a look at him, honey ?” 

‘‘ Surely not, Joe.” Accordingly I took up a 
lamp, and stepped with it into the next room — 
the sitting-room, in which Ralph’s crib was 
stationed. The crib stood close to the window, 
which was open. I was surprised that Jessie had 
left it so, knowing, as she did, that Ralph caught 
cold with painful facility. Joe cast a disap- 
proving look at the opening as we stood by the 
crib side, but, fearful of awakening the little 
sleeper, he said nothing. All children are 
lovely in their sleep, but as I held the lamp 
aloft, while we admiringly surveyed this one, I 
think the same idea occurred to us both — that 
never was there one more beautiful than our 
Ralph. Joe, cautiously advancing a horny fore- 
finger, softly touched the moist, dimpled little 
hand that lay relaxed outside the coverlet. Then 
he drew the coverlet a little closer over the baby 
sleeper’s shoulders, and, noiselessly closing the 


AN OPEN WINDOW 


275 


window, turned away with a sigh that be- 
longed, I felt, not to Ralph, but to some one 
whom he seemed to the old man to resemble. 

When we were again in the kitchen, he said 
decidedly : I ’clar for hit. Miss Jessie — fo’ hit 
mus’ ^a^ been yo, w’at done hit ; fo’ yo' said Miss 
Leslie done been gone — I^se ’sprised fur to see 
yo’ a-puttin’ dat chile ter bed wid the winder 
beside him wide open, an’ the nights plumb cole 
an’ varmints a wanderin’ roun’ — ” 

‘‘ Why, Joe, what are you talking about ? I 
never left it open. I’d be afraid that that cat of 
Ralph’s would jump in and wake him, if nothing 
else. When it’s open at all I’m careful to open 
it from the top ; but it’s so cool to-night that I 
didn’t open it.” 

‘‘ I jess reckons yo’ furgot ter shet it, honey,” 
Joe insisted. 

‘‘ I’m quite sure it hasn’t been opened,” re- 
turned Jessie, who did not give up a point easily. 
I could see, though I had no doubt that Joe 
was right, that the matter really puzzled her. 

‘‘ Ralph, he de libin’ picter ob Mas’r Ralph, 


276 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


w’en he was a little feller, an’ hit aiii’ no ways 
likely dat I gwine ter set still an’ see Mas’r 
Ralph’s onliest son lose his ’heritance ; not ef I 
can holp it,” Joe remarked reflectively, after 
Jessie had again proclaimed that she did not 
leave the window open. 

The words reminded me of the danger which 
still threatened us, in spite of the providential 
help that Joe’s coming had brought us. 

A new idea occurred to me. ‘‘ Jessie,” I said, 
‘‘ there’s nothing to hinder your going down to 
town as early as you please to-night, now that 
Joe has come, and Mr. Wilson will be left free 
to go with you.” 

Jessie sprang to her feet, as if she would go 
on the instant. 

‘‘ That is so !” she exclaimed. “ Oli, Joe, how 
glad I am that you came just as you did !” 

The matter was then explained to Joe, who 
volunteered to go over at once to Mr. Wilson’s 
and arrange to take his place in the morning, 
thus leaving him free to go with Jessie. 

It was past ten o’clock and the moon was 


AN OPEN WINDOW 


277 


just coming up over the tree-tops when Joe 
started on his two-mile tramp to Mr. Wilson’s. 

You’d better take one of the horses,” Jessie 
had told him. 

‘‘ W’at fur I want oh a hoss ? Rudder hab 
my own two footses to trabbel on — if dey is 
kine o’ onsartain some times — dan airy four- 
legged hoss dat eber libed,” Joe returned, disre- 
spectfully. 

Sure that our good neighbor would return 
with him, Jessie proceeded to make ready for 
the trip. We were not disappointed. After 
a wait of about an hour we heard the rattle of 
approaching wheels, and presently Mr. Wilson, 
with Joe in the cart beside him, stopped the 
fast colt before the gate. 

‘‘ All ready. Miss Jessie ?” he sang out in re- 
sponse to our eager greeting. 

“Yes,” said Jessie, “I’m quite ready.” 

“ Climb right in, then, and we’ll get well 
started before midnight. Whatever Horton 
does, he can’t beat that, for we’ll have our 
forces — part of ’em, any way — drawn up in 


278 


TWO WYOMING GIKLS 


battle array before the Land Office doors when 
they open at seven o’clock. We won’t need to 
hurry to do it, either. We’ll have time to 
brush up and eat our breakfasts like a couple 
of Christians after we get there.” 

“Had I better take the money with me?” 
Jessie asked. 

“ Certainly, all you can rake and scrape.” 

J essie laughed gleefully ; it was evident that 
Joe had not told Mr. Wilson of his recent finan- 
cial transaction. When Jessie told him, he got 
up — the colt had been tied at the gate and we 
were all within doors again, in spite of Mr. 
Wilson’s first entreaty to Jessie to “get right 
in ’’—crossed the room and held out his hand 
to the old negro. 

“ Shake, friend !” As Joe, rather reluctantly, 
I thought, for he was a shy old man, laid his 
black hand in Mr. Wilson’s clasp, the latter 
continued : “ I reckon I know a man when I 
see one, be he white or black, and I tell you 
I’m proud to have the chance of shaking hands 
with you !” 


AN OPEN WINDOW 


279 


Joe, furtively rubbing the hand that he had 
released — for, in his earnestness, Mr. Wilson had 
evidently given it a telling pressure — hung his 
head, and responded, sheepishly : ‘‘ I reckons 
Fse be a whole Noah’s A’k full of animals ef 
dish yer sort ob t’ing gwine keep on. Miss 
Leslie, she done call me a angel, and now yo’ 
done says I’se a man. Kine o’ ha’d on a ole 
feller like me, hit is !” 

Mr. Wilson laughed good-humoredly. 

^‘You’re all right, Joe; we won’t talk about 
it. And now, how is Miss Jessie to get the 
money ?” 

‘^I’se gwine draw a check on de bank in 
Fa’hplay to cobber de whole ’posit,” returned 
Joe, with dignity; “I done axed the cashier 
’bout hit, an’ he tole me w’at ter do. He gin 
me some papers w’at he called blanket checks, 
an’ tole me how to fill ’em out. I’se done been 
keepin’ ob ’em safe.” In proof of which state- 
ment Joe drew an old-fashioned leather wallet 
from an inner pocket of his ragged coat, undid 
the strap with which it was bound, and, opening 


280 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


it, carefully extracted therefrom two or three 
bits of paper, that a glance sufficed to show were 
blank checks on the First National Bank of 
Fairplay. While he was getting the checks out 
another paper, loosely folded and yellow with 
age, slipped from the wallet, falling to the 
hearth. As it fell there slid from its loose folds 
a soft curl of long, bright hair, of the exact hue 
of little Ralph’s. Stooping, Jessie picked up 
the shining tendril, pausing to twine it gently 
around her finger before tendering it to Joe. 

Ralph’s hair is a little darker, I believe, than 
it was when you cut this, Joe,” she remarked, 
going to the light for a nearer view. 

‘‘ Dat ar’ c’ul did’n’ grow on dis Ralph’s head, 
honey ; I cut dat ofien de head ob dat odder 
Ralph w’at’s a lyin’ in de grabeya’d, w’en he 
was littler dan dis one ; an’ I’se ’done carried 
dat cu’l close to my heart fo’ upwa’ds ob fo’ty 
yeah,” responded Joe simply, as he took the bit 
of hair from Jessie’s finger, and carefully re- 
placed it. ‘‘W’en I dies,” he continued, “I 
ain’ carin’ w’at sort ob a berryin’ I gets, ner 


AN OPEN WINDOW 


281 


w’at sort ob clo’se my ole body is wrapped up in, 
but I’d like fur to be suali dat dish yer bit o’ 
hair goes inter de groun’ wid me.” 

He looked up at us, his beloved young mas- 
ter’s children, solemnly and questioningly, as 
though exacting a promise, which was given, 
though no words were spoken on either side. 
Eyes have a language of their own. 

‘‘ Now ef yo’ll done fotch me de ink bottle. 
Miss Leslie, honey, I’se boun’ ter fill out dish 
yer blanket check, same like de cashier done 
tole me,” Joe went on with a business-like change 
of tone. 

The ink bottle, with pen and holder, was pro- 
duced and placed on the table which Joe imme- 
diately cleared for action by removing every 
article upon it until he had a clear sweep of 
some three or four feet, then he sat down and 
proceeded, slowly, slowly, to fill out the check in 
Jessie’s favor. It was a task that required time 
and infinite painstaking. We had not known 
that Joe could write, and I am afraid that, even 
when he announced that the work was done and 


282 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


the check filled out, we were by no means sure 
of it, for wonderful indeed were the hiero- 
glyphics through whose agency Joe proclaimed 
his purpose. There was one thing certain, how- 
ever, no sane cashier, having once seen that 
unique signature, could for a moment doubt its 
authenticity. 

Mr. Wilson glanced over the document, as 
Joe at length put it in Jessie’s hand. ‘‘That’s 
all right,” he said, in his hearty, reassur- 
ing way. “ You’ve got it all as straight as 
a string, Joe” — which he had not, so far as 
mechanical execution went — “ we’ll have no 
trouble now. Put that away safely, Jessie, and 
let’s be going.” 

“ Shall we take the Bible now ?” Jessie asked, 
after she had complied with his directions. 

“ Oh, no ; time enough for that when Joe 
comes down. Put on a warm bonnet and shawl, 
now,” he continued, “ for the nights are chilly.” 

In the days of his youth women and girls 
wore bonnets and shawls, and I never knew him 
to refer to their cloaks or headgear in any other 


AN OPEN WINDOW 


283 


terms. Jessie assured him that she was well 
protected, and Joe and I followed her and her 
sturdy escort out to the gate. 

‘‘ Had Leslie better come down with the others 
to-morrow?’^ Jessie inquired after they were 
seated in the cart, and while Joe was tucking 
the lap robe around her feet. 

‘‘ Oh, no ! By no means. It isn^t necessary, 
and her being here will enable us to swear that 
the house hasn’t been vacant, day or night, since 
the claim was first filed on, and ain’t vacant even 
at the present minute. We can’t be too careful, 
you know. Good night to you both !” 

He spoke to the colt ; Jessie echoed his good 
night, and they were gone. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


ALONE ON THE CLAIM 

Joe glanced at the clock as we re-entered the 
house, after the cart had disappeared down the 
road. Now, if yo’ gits right to bed, Leslie, 
chile, yo^s gwine git right smaHit ob sleej) afore 
yo’ has to git up ter holiD me git stahted,’^ he 
said. 

It was past one o’clock. “ I don’t know, Joe,” 
I returned. “ It seems hardly worth while 
to try to sleep at all ; we must get uj) so 
soon.” 

‘‘ Hit’s wuf while ter git sleep w’enebber, an’ 
wharebber yo’ kin,” the old man insisted, with 
the wisdom of experience. 

Accordingly, I lay down on my bed with- 
out taking the trouble to undress — I was so 
fearful of oversleeping. For a long time I 
lay thinking of Jessie, on her hurried night 
ride, of old Joe, and the blessed relief that 
284 


ALONE ON THE CLAIM 


285 


his coming had brought us, and, above all, 
of Mr. Horton and his machinations. I meant 
to be awake when the hour that Joe had sug- 
gested for rising, struck. The hour was five 
o’clock, but it was well past, when a gentle 
tap on the door awoke me, and Joe’s voice an- 
nounced : Hit’s done struck fibe. Miss Leslie ; 
yo’s bettah be stirrin.” 

My reply was forestalled by a delighted cry 
from the crib, where Ralph was supposed to lie 
asleep : “ Oho ! Mine Joe is turn ’ome ! Mine 

Joe is turn ’ome !” 

I heard the negro shuffle quickly across the 
floor, and the next instant Ralph was in his 
arms and being borne triumphantly into the 
kitchen. The friendshi}! between the two was 
mutual, and it was not at all surprising that 
Ralph was beside himself with joy at Joe’s 
return. He hurried through his own breakfast, 
watched Joe, gravely, through his, and then 
announced his intention of accompanying the 
latter, in ’e waggin.” He had gathered from 
our conversation that Joe was going somewhere. 


286 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


and, wherever it was, he was willing to bear him 
company. 

“ W^er my ^at T* he asked, trotting about in 
search of that article, as Joe drove up to the 
door with the horses and light wagon. 

‘‘Your hat is under your crib, dear, but you 
can’t go with Joe to-day.” 

“’Ess; me doin’,” he returned, obstinately, 
securing the hat, while I was carrying the Bible 
out to Joe. 

“Now, Joe, take good care of it!” I coun- 
seled him, as he stooped down to take the bulky 
volume from my arms. 

“Keer? Ha! I reckons I’se boun’ fur tek’ 
keer ob dat book ! Lots ob folks w’at done all 
sorts ob t’ings, shet up ’atween de leds ob dat 
book. Some good t’ings dey done, an’ a mighty 
lot o’ bad ones, an’ I ain’ goin’ let none ob ’em 
git out ! Leslie, chile, I’se gwine sot on dat 
book, an’ keep dem folks squelched ’til we all 
roun’s up in front ob de ’Ian’ office; yo’ kin 
count on dat !” 

Placing the book on the wagon-seat, he 


ALOI^E ON THE CLAIM 


287 


spread a blanket over it, then planted himself, 
squarely and with emphasis, upon it. ‘‘ Dere, 
dey^s safe He gathered up the lines ; the out- 
fit was in motion when its progress was suddenly 
arrested by a piercing cry from Ralph : 

“ Top, ’top, Joe ! Me’s doin’ wiv’ ’oo, me is !” 

The little fellow was standing beside the 
wagon, his arms upstretched to be taken, and the 
tears streaming down his cheeks. Joe looked 
at him, and scratched his head in perplexity. 

I’se wisht’ yo’d stayed asleep till I’se done got 
away, honey chile — I does so!” he muttered, 
ruefully. 

‘‘ Me’s doin’ !” Ralph insisted, taking advan- 
tage of the halt to swarm up over the wheel-hub, 
and to get his white apron covered with wagon- 
grease. 

“ Me is doin’ 1” he repeated. 

“ Train up a chile in de way w’at he wants 
ter go, an’ w’en he is ole he won’t depart from 
it I” Joe quoted, with fatal aptness. ‘‘ Dat chile 
cain’t be ’lowed fur ter run t’ings dish yer way ; 
he cain’t be ’lowed ter go to town, noway ; but 


288 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


I tell yo’ w^at, honey, yo’ might jess sli|) er 
clean apern on ter him an^ let him ride down ter 
Wilson^s ’long ’er me. Dat Mis’ Wilson, she 
always bein’ tickled when she see Ralph.” 

“ ’Ess ; me do see Mif ’Ilson,” Ralph declared, 
brightening. It was true that the good ranch- 
man’s wife had always made much of him, and 
was glad to have him with her, and I had a 
particular reason for being glad of the tem- 
j)orary freedom that his going over there would 
give me. I made haste to change his soiled 
dress and get him ready. “ Tell her,” I said, as 
I lifted him into the wagon, that I’ll come 
over after him some time this afternoon ; it isn’t 
far, and if I start early enough he can easily 
walk home with me before night.” 

Dat’s right ; we’s got dat all fixed,” Joe re- 
sponded cheerfully. He started the team again, 
while Ralph, his good humor restored, threw me 
kisses as the wagon rattled away. 

I had mentioned it to no one, but I was 
secretly a good deal worried over the non-ap- 
pearance of Guard. In the present absorbed 


ALONE ON THE CLAIM 


289 


interest in other matters, I think none of the 
family, save myself, had taken note of the fact 
that the dog had not been seen since his noisy 
scramble up the hillside in pursuit of sonie 
animal, the evening before. 

Only hunters, or those who dwell in remote 
and lonely places, can realize how fully one’s 
canine followers may become, in certain sur- 
roundings, at once comrades and friends. I 
missed the dog’s shaggy black head and at- 
tentive eyes as I hurried through with the morn- 
ing’s milking. He was wont to sit beside me 
during that operation, and watch proceedings 
with absorbed and judicial interest. I missed 
him again as I heard a fluttering and squawk- 
ing that might mean mischief, near the poultry 
yard. Above all, in the absence of the 
other members of the family, I missed his 
companionship. So, as I hastened with the 
morning’s tasks, I resolved to take the oppor- 
tunity afforded by Ealph’s absence, and go in 
search of him. Disquieting recollections of the 
wildcat that he and I had dared, and of the 


19 


290 TWO WYOMING GIRLS 

wildcat that had dared Mrs. Lloyd, came to my 
mind. It seemed to me by no means improb- 
able that Guard had treed one of these creatures 
and was holding it until help came or until the 
cat should become tired of imprisonment and 
make a rush for liberty ; a rush that, if it came 
to close quarters, would be pretty certain to re- 
sult disastrously for Guard. So thinking, I took 
father’s light rifle — which was always kept 
loaded — down from its place on the kitchen wall, 
buckled a belt of cartridges around my waist, 
and, locking the door behind me, started on my 
quest. 

Guard’s vanishing bark, on the previous even- 
ing, had led up the hillside, behind the house. 
So, up the hillside I went, scanning the ground 
eagerly for tracks, or for any sign that might 
indicate which direction to take. The ground 
was thickly strewn with pine needles and the 
search for tracks was fruitless; an elephant’s 
track would not have shown on such ground as 
that. After a little, though, I did find some- 
thing that puzzled me. Lying conspicuously 


ALONE ON THE CLAIM 


291 


near the cattle-trail that led upward into the 
higher hills, was a large piece of fresh beef. 
Stopping, I turned the meat over cautiously 
with the toe of my shoe, wondering greatly how 
it came to be just there. It was cut — not torn — 
so it could not have been dropped there by any 
wild beast, but by some person. As I looked 
attentively at it, some white substance, lying 
half hidden in a deep cleft in the meat, attracted 
my attention. I stood still for a long time, 
studying that bit of beef. That the white sub- 
stance was poison I had not a doubt. If some 
one were anxious to kill a dog — like a flash the 
recollection of Guard’s indiscreet charge on Mr. 
Horton’s horse, and of Mr. Horton’s speechless 
rage thereat, came to my mind. An attempt to 
poison Guard did not strike me, at the moment, 
as an act indicating anything more than a deter- 
mination to be revenged on him for the trouble 
that he had already given Mr. Horton. After- 
ward, I understood its full significance. A little 
beyond the spot where I found the poisoned 
meat, well out of sight from the house, or of any 


292 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


chance passers-by, I came to a tree under which 
a horse had evidently been recently tethered, and 
that, too, for a long time. I wondered at this, 
for, among us, people seldom tether a horse ; it 
is considered an essential part of a cow pony’s 
training to learn to remain long in one place 
without being fastened in any way. Still, as I 
reflected, the matter was not one to cause wonder. 
The ground was torn and trampled by the im- 
patient, pawing hoofs, and I knew very well 
what horse it was that, for his recent sins, 
might have been compelled to do penance in this 
manner. 

Something over half a mile from our house 
there was a break in the hills — the beginning of 
a long and dark ravine that, trending south- 
ward, led, if one cared to traverse it, in a toler- 
ably straight course to the far lower end of the 
valley, near where the Hortons lived. 

It was an uncanny place — dark at all times, 
as well as damp, and so uninviting in its wild- 
ness, even as a short cut to a brighter place, that 
it was very seldom entered. As I stood on the 


ALONE ON THE CLAIM 


293 


hill above it, peering down into its shadows, a 
great longing took possession of me to know 
whether Mr. Horton had really gone to town as 
he threatened. Besides, if Guard were really 
standing sentinel over a wildcat, no more prom- 
ising place to search for him could be found. 
So thinking, I readjusted my cartridge-belt, 
swung the rifle muzzle to the front, ready for 
instant use, should occasion demand it, and, not 
without some unpleasant, creepy sensations at 
the roots of my hair, I dropped down into the 


ravine. 


CHAPTER XIV 


HUNTING FOR GUARD 

The ravine was a mile or more in length, and 
I traversed it rapidly without coming upon any 
traces of Guard or the wildcat. 

Sooner than I had expected, despite my 
anxiety, the ravine widened, the encroaching 
walls became lower, the light stronger, and, in a 
moment more, I came out on a wide, park -like 
opening, back of Mr. Horton’s house. 

I had not met Mrs. Horton since the morning 
that the wheat crop was destroyed, although I 
had seen her passing the house frequently on 
her way to and from the store. It was plain 
that she avoided us, through no fault or desire 
of her own, but out of very shame because of 
the brand on the cattle that had ruined our 
crops. Casting about in my mind for an ex- 
cuse for calling on her now, I was impelled to 
go on, even without an excuse. My conscience 
294 


HUNTING FOR GUARD 


295 


told me that I had treated her with less kind- 
ness on that occasion than she deserved. Strik- 
ing into the cattle trail that, bordering the park, 
led to Horton’s corral, I followed it to the cor- 
ral gate, and was soon after knocking at Hor- 
ton’s front door. My knock was answered by 
Mrs. Horton, who exclaimed in astonishment 
at sight of me : 

« Why, I declare ! I thought you’d be gone 
to town to-day, sure. Has Jessie gone ?” 

Oh yes ; and Ralph is at Mrs. Wilson’s.” 

Well, well ! Come right in ! And so you 
didn’t go. I don’t see how you managed it, 
hardly.” 

“ Joe came home in time to drive down, and 
Mr. — we thought it best not to leave the home- 
stead alone.” 

Mrs. Horton nodded her head approvingly. 

‘‘ That was a good thought ; you can’t be too 
careful. I declare, I wish you had brought 
Ralph over here — the precious ! I’ve been feel- 
ing as lonesome as an owl this morning. Gen- 
erally I don’t mind being left alone, not a bit ; 


296 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


I’m used to it ; but I was feeling disappointed 
to-day, and so everything goes against the grain, 
I s’pose.” 

I must have looked sympathetic, for she pres- 
ently broke out : 

“ I don’t feel, Leslie, as if I was an unreason- 
able or exacting kind of woman, in general, 
but Jake talked last night as if he thought I 
was. You see, I had set my heart on going to 
town when it came time for you girls to prove 
up. I’d thought of lots of little things that I 
was going to mention to the Land Agent, to in- 
fluence him in your favor, and I guess there 
aren’t many folks that know better than I do how 
you’ve tried and tried to fill all the require- 
ments. But Jake — ” 

She j)aused, her mouth, with its gentle-looking 
curves, closing as if she would say no more. 
But her grievance was too fresh and too bitter to 
admit of her keeping silence. In answer to my 
respectful inquiry as to why she didn’t go, she 
burst out impatiently : 

“ Jake wouldn’t let me. Said if I did I’d 


HUNTING FOR GUARD 


297 


be interfering with what was none of my busi- 
ness — as if I ever interfered with any one else’s 
business — and, besides, he said it wasn^t conve- 
nient to take me. He went on horseback him- 
self.’’ 

‘‘ Oh, he’s gone, then ?” 

Gracious, yes ! Gone ! He’s been in town 
nearly all night. He was out somewhere last 
evening, looking up cattle, he said, and he didn’t 
get in till almost nine o’clock ; then he ate 
supper and started right off. I thought it was 
a rather dark time to be starting for town, but 
he said the moon would be rising before he got 
out on to the plains, and he didn’t care for the 
dark.” 

Why was he so anxious to get to town early 
this morning ?” I asked, with what I inwardly 
felt to be almost insolent persistency. Mr. 
Horton’s good wife suspected nothing, however. 

“ Why, I suppose, to help you folks, if help 
was needed,” she replied, readily. I’ve felt 
awfully CLit up, Leslie, about the way our cattle 
destroyed your crops. It just went to my heart 


298 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


to think that it was our cattle that did it — and 
the tears in her honest blue eyes attested the sin- 
cerity of her words — IVe talked to Jake a 
good deal about it. He hasn’t said straight out 
that he’d pay damages, but I’ve been thinking 
maybe he intended to do it in his own way, and 
his way was to get to town and help you all he 
could with the Land Agent. As he’s been 
known to the claim so long, his word ought to 
have weight. Don’t you think so ?” 

‘‘ I am afraid — I mean yes, certainly,” I stam- 
mered. It was not reassuring to think of the 
weight that his word might have. 

When do you look for Mr. Horton to re- 
turn ?” I asked, rising from my chair as I 
spoke. 

Oh, not until your business is all settled ; 
he said he’d stay and see it all through. He 
said that he’d have a surprise for me when he 
got back ; but I guess he won’t. I imagine that 
he thought I’d feel surprised to learn that you’d 
received your papers, but I’d be surprised if you 
didn’t, after the way you’ve kept the faith, so to 


HUNTING FOR GUARD 


200 


speak. Oh, now, sit down ! You’re not going 
yet, are you ? And after such a walk as it is 
from your house here, too !” 

“I came down by the trail, Mrs. Horton.” 
And then I told her about Guard, thus account- 
ing for the gun, which I had caught her glan- 
cing at, once or twice, rather curiously. 

“ Young dogs are foolish,” was her comment, 
when she had heard the story. ‘‘ If he was 
older, I should tell you not to be a mite wor- 
ried, but as he’s a young one, it’s different. I’ve 
known a young dog to get on a hot trail, and fol- 
low it until he was completely lost. My father 
lost a fine deerhound that way once. The dog 
got on the trail of a buck, and last we ever 
heard of him he was twenty miles away, and 
still going. I do hope you won’t have such bad 
luck with your dog.” 

I bade good-by to Mrs. Horton, and started 
homeward, again taking the trail through the 
ravine. I was not much cheered by her words 
in regard to Guard, and heavily depressed by 
the knowledge that Mr. Horton had, after all, 


300 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


beaten Mr. Wilson and Jessie in his start for 
town — though what difference it could make, 
either way, until the Land Office was open in 
the morning no one could have told. Being 
troubled, I walked slowly, this time, with my 
eyes on the ground. Half-way through the 
ravine I came to a point where a break in the 
walls let in the sunlight. Through this low, 
ragged depression the light was streaming in in 
a long, brilliant shaft as I approached the spot. 
The warm, bright column of golden light had 
so strange an effect, lighting up the gray rocks 
and the moist, reeking pathway, that I paused 
to admire it. If it were only a rainbow, now,’’ 
I thought, ‘‘ I should look under the end of it, 
there, for a bag of gold.” My eyes -absently 
followed the column of light to the point where 
it seemed suddenly to end in the darkness of the 
ravine, and I uttered a startled cry. Under the 
warm, bright light I saw the distinct impression 
of a dog’s foot. It was as clearly defined in the 
oozy reek as it would have been had some one 
purposely taken a cast of it, but after the first 


HUNTING FOR GUARD 


301 


start, I reflected that it did not necessarily follow 
that the print was made by Guard. Still, ex- 
amination showed that it might well be his. 
Searching farther, I found more tracks — above 
the break in the wall, but none in the ravine 
below it. The footprints had been a good deal 
marred by my own as I came down the ravine, 
and, what I thought most singular, supposing 
the tracks to have been made by Guard, there 
were also the hoof-marks of a horse — not a 
range-horse, for this one wore shoes, and, devel- 
oping Indian lore as I studied the trail, I pres- 
ently made the important discovery that, while 
the dog^s tracks occasionally overlaid those of 
the horse, the horse’s tracks never covered the 
dog’s. Clearly, then, if those footprints belonged 
to Guard, as I had a quite unaccountable con- 
viction that they did, he was quietly following 
some horseman. For an indignant instant I 
suspected some reckless cowboy of having las- 
soed and stolen him, but a little further study 
of the footprints spoiled that theory. Guard 
would have resisted such a seizure, and the foot- 


302 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


prints would have been blurred and dragging. 
The clean impressions left by this canine were 
not those of an unwilling captive. I followed 
the tracks along the trail to the upper end of 
the ravine for some time, but learning nothing 
further in that way, returned again to the break 
in the wall. Looking attentively at that, I at 
length discovered a long, fresh mark on the 
slippery rock. Such a mark as might have 
been made by the iron-shod hoof of a horse, 
scrambling up the wall in haste, and slipping 
dangerously on the insecure foothold. With the 
recognition of this, I was scrambling up the 
bank myself. Scarcely had my head reached 
the level of the bank when a loud, eager 
whinny broke the silence. Startled, I slipped 
into a thicket of scrub-oaks, and, from their 
friendly shelter, made a cautious reconnoissance. 
Not far away, and standing in clear view, a bay 
horse was tethered to the over-hanging limb of 
a pine tree. It did not need a second glance 
for me to recognize Don, Mr. Horton’s favorite 
saddle-horse. That the poor creature had had a 


HUNTING FOR GUARD 


303 


long and tedious wait, his eager whinnying, and 
the pawing of his impatient hoof, as he looked 
over in my direction, plainly told. 

I watched him for awhile, breathlessly, and 
in silence, but he was far too anxious to keep 
silent himself. His distress was so apparent 
that I felt sorry for him, and finally decided 
that I might, at least, venture to approach and 
speak to him. Leaving my place of conceal- 
ment I started toward him, but stopped abruptly 
with my heart in my mouth, before I had taken 
a dozen steps, as a new sound broke the silence. 
A new sound, but familiar, and doubly welcome 
in that wild place. It was the sharp, excited 
yelping that Guard was wont to make when he 
had treed game and needed help. 


CHAPTER XXV 


guard’s prisoner 

At the sound of Guard’s voice, regardless of 
caution, and waiting only to raise the hammer 
of the rifle that I held ready in my hand, I ran 
forward. Guard evidently had his eyes on me, 
although I could not see him ; his yelps ceased 
for an instant to break forth with redoubled 
energy as I came within sight of him. He was 
standing over a heap of rubbish, into which he 
was glaring with vindictive watchfulness, but 
with one alert ear bent in my direction and the 
tip of his bushy tail quivered in joyful recogni- 
tion as I advanced toward him. Before reaching 
him, however, I had found my bearings, as the 
hunters say, and knew the locality. Still, the 
place had an unfamiliar air. It was a minute 
or two before I saw the cause of this ; then I 
missed the one thing that particularly designated 
the spot, setting it apart to that extent from 
304 


GUARD S PRISONER 


305 


many similar places. I had not seen the lonely, 
secluded little park more than two or three times 
in all the years that we had lived so near it, but 
whenever I had seen it, hitherto, a hunter’s 
shack, long abandoned, had stood on the farther 
edge of the opening. It had always seemed on 
the verge of falling, and, as I neared Guard, I 
saw that this was the thing that had happened : 
the cabin had collapsed, and, more than that. 
Guard had run something to earth under it. 

The dog’s excited yelping, now that relief was 
at hand, was ear-splitting, but his vigilant watch 
did not for an instant relax. 

‘‘ What is it. Guard — have you got a wild-cat 
in there ?” I panted, breathlessly, halting beside 
him. ‘‘ Well ; you just wait, now ; ^e’re going 
to get him this time!” So speaking, I cau- 
tiously trained the muzzle of the rifle on the 
spot that his vigilant eyes never left off watch- 
ing. Then I cast a hasty glance around. If half 
the wild-cat stories that I had been hearing of 
late were true, it would be well to have some 
place of retreat to fall back upon, in case the 


306 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


cat, proving obdurate, should decline to die 
easily. Fortunately, as I thought, there was a 
large pine tree close at hand ; it was, indeed, 
immensely large. I could no more have swarmed 
up that scaly trunk, had I flown to it for pro- 
tection, than I could have spread out a pair of 
wings and flown to its topmost branches. In 
my excitement, I never thought of that, nor of 
the equally unpleasant fact that wild-cats are 
expert climbers. Sure that the refuge at hand 
would suit, I dropped on one knee, training the 
rifle-muzzle into a crevice between a couple of 
fallen logs, and sighting along the barrel. I 
could see nothing, but, with my finger on the 
trigger, I was prepared to fire whether I sighted 
the enemy or not. Guard drew back, silent, 
now, but trembling with excitement. 

“ Hold -on cried a voice from the rubbish 
heap, “ I aint no wildcat !’’ The voice was 
shrill and sharp with terror, but I knew it in- 
stantly for that of Jacob Horton. The rifle 
slipped unheeded from my nerveless hand, while 
Guard, since there was evidently to be no shoot- 



!” 


HOLD ON, I AINT NO WILDCAT 
(Page 306) 







guard’s prisoner 307 

ing, resumed his former post and growled 
menacingly. 

‘‘ Why — why,” I stammered, “if you are not 
a wildcat — if you are a man — I thought you 
had gone to town !” 

“ Gone to town !” the voice, losing its tone of 
terror, degenerated into a snarl. “ I’ve been 
here all night. I’ve met up with an accident. 
I’m pinned down under a log, and that infernal 
dog of yours has stood and growled at me all 
night; I ain’t dared to say my soul was my 
own.” 

“ I don’t believe that any one else would care 
to claim it.” 

The words broke from me involuntarily. I 
had the grace to feel ashamed the minute they 
were spoken. Guard’s prisoner answered my 
unfeeling observation with a groan, and I looked 
reproachfully at Guard, who returned the look 
with a hopeful glance of his bright eye and 
wagged his tail cheerfully. I think that he 
quite expected to receive orders to go in and 
drag his fallen enemy out to the light of day. 


308 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


Realizing that as a general thing Guard under- 
stood his own business I forbore to reproach 
him, at the moment, for having treed or 
grounded Mr. Horton. 

‘‘Are you badly hurt I inquired, falling on 
my knees before the crevice, and trying to catch 
a glimpse of the victim of an accident. 

“ I do’no^s I’m hurt in none of my limbs,” 
was the cautious reply, “ but I’m covered with 
bruises, and I’m pinned fast. I couldn’t a’ got 
away if I hadn’t been, for that brute was de- 
termined to have my life. Turn about’s fair 
play ; we’ll see how he comes out after this !” 

Clearly, the victim’s temper had not been 
improved by the night’s adventures, and it was 
easy to see that he had made almost no effort at 
all to escape from a position which, although 
certainly uncomfortable, had the great advan- 
age of keeping the dog at bay. I thought of 
the Land Office in Fairplay and of the business 
that was probably being transacted there at 
that moment, and resolved to give Guard the 
whole of the roast that was left over from 


GUARDIS PRISONER 


309 


yesterday’s dinner when we reached home 
again. 

‘‘ Ain’t you even goin’ to try to help me ? 
Goin’ to let me lay here an’ die ?” demanded the 
angry voice from under the ruins. 

“ Oh, no, certainly not. I’ll try to help you 
out. I guess you’ve been here long enough,” I 
replied, cheerfully. 

‘‘ Huh ! I should think I had been here 
long enough. This night’s work’ll prob’ly cost 
me thousands of dollars — but I’ll have that 
whelp’s life when I do git out ; that’s one com- 
fort.” 

For a wicked instant I was tempted to turn 
away and leave our unrepentant enemy where 
he was. The impulse passed as quickly as it 
came, but I not ashamed to confess that before 
setting to work to try to extricate the prisoner 
I threw my arms around Guard’s neck and 
hugged him ecstatically. “ It’s all right ; we’re 
safe !” I whispered, in his ear, as if he could un- 
derstand me — and I am not sure to this day 
that he could not. Then I began tugging away 


310 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


at the rotten pieces of wood that, fallen in a 
heap, formed a rough sort of wickiup, under 
which Mr. Horton reclined at length. It was a 
pretty hard task, for some of the timbers were 
heavy enough to tax all my strength ; but an 
opening was made at last, and through it Mr. 
Horton slowly crawled into the light. He was 
compelled to advance backward, after the man- 
ner of the crawfish, and as he finally got clear 
of the ruins and staggered to his feet, he was a 
most disreputable-looking figure. Apart from 
a good many scratches and bruises, he did not 
seem to be injured in the least. The timbers 
had fallen in such a way that their weight did 
not rest on him. His scowling face, as he 
turned it to the light, was further disfigured by 
several long scratches and by a dry coating of 
blood and dirt. His coat — the coat, again — 
was torn, his hat gone, and his bushy iron-gray 
hair stood fiercely upright. The change from 
the semi-darkness of his place of imprisonment 
to the full light of day partially blinded him, 
and he stood, blinking and winking for a 


guard's prisoner 


311 


full minute after getting on his feet; then 
he apprehensively examined his arms and 
legs. 

‘‘ I reckon there ain't iiQiie of 'em broken," he 
said at last, grudgingly. ‘‘ But it's no thanks to 
that dog of your'n that I ain't chawed into 
mince-meat — confound you!" — this to Guard, 
who was sniffing inquiringly at the legs of his 
late quarry. The words were further empha- 
sized by a vicious kick, which, missing its in- 
tended victim, did astounding execution on 
something else. 

We were standing, at the moment, on a drift 
of leaves that had lain inside the hut. Mr. 
Horton's vigorous kick sent a shower of these 
leaves flying in all directions, and disclosed, half 
hidden beneath them, a large, square, leather- 
bound volume, on which my eyes rested in 
amazed recognition, while Guard, with a bark 
of delight, took his station beside it, wagging his 
tail joyfully. 

I looked at Mr. Horton, whose face, under its 
mask of blood and dirt, had turned the color of 


312 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


gray ashes. He began to back slowly away to- 
ward his horse. 

Wait !” I cried ; ‘‘ I want you to tell me — you 
must tell me, Mr. Horton, what you were doing 
last night. How came J essie^s dictionary here 
Jessie’s dictionary ?” His voice rose in a 
shrill cry, that made me jump, and drew a warn- 
ing growl from Guard. 

I thought of the window beside Ralph’s crib, 
that Jessie so stoutly averred she did not leave 
open, and light dawned upon me. ‘‘Yes!” I 
repeated, sternly, contempt for the wretch before 
me overcoming all fear ; “ Jessie’s dictionary.” 
I had, by this time, picked up the book. Mr. 
Horton extended his hand toward it ; and his 
tone was almost humble as he said : 

“ Let me see it.” 

When the book was in his hands, he turned 
over the leaves, examining them with evident 
surprise and bewilderment. Finally : 

“ It is a dictionary, ain’t it ?” he said, feebly, 
and repeated, under his breath, “ It is a dic- 
tionary !” 


guard’s prisoner 


313 


“ You thought, when you opened the window 
last night, and stole it off the ledge, that it was 
the Bible, with our family record in it, didn’t 
you ?” I recklessly inquired^ But Mr. Horton 
was past being angry. 

“ Yes, I did,” he said, making the admission 
as if still dazed. 

“ And you left the window open ?” I went 
on. 

** Yes, I did. The dog took after me — the 
dog has been hot on my trail from first to last, 
it ’pears, and you ain’t been fur behind him.” 

“ No,” I admitted, glancing at his torn coat, 
from which the upper button was still absent, 
‘‘ I don’t think I have. I even have a bit of 
your property as a reward for some of my work. 
There’s a button missing from your coat. I 
found it.” 

‘‘ Where ?” Mr. Horton inquired, in a low 
voice. 

“ Under the window that you are so fond of 
visiting ; the one that you started the fire under 
some weeks ago.” 


314 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


Mr. Horton stirred uneasily, and again 
glanced toward his horse. You think I lost 
the button there, do you 

“ I know you did.^’ 

Mr. Horton did not dispute the statement. 
He had dropped down on a log, after the dis- 
covery of the dictionary, as if his knees were too 
weak to sustain him. He looked at Guard, and 
then at me, studying us both for a full minute. 

You make quite a pair of detectives, you 
and the dog,^’ he said. Then, suddenly, he rose 
to his feet, his bunched up figure straightened, 
he lifted his head, as one might who had in- 
wardly made some strong resolve, and I felt, 
with a curious kind of thrill, lhat a new atmos- 
phere enveloped us both. 

Quite irrelevantly, as it then seemed to me, 
some words that father had spoken many weeks 
ago, came into my mind : They all tell me,” 
he had said, “ that Horton’s as good a friend as 
one need ask for, once let him be fairly beaten 
at his own game.” Could that be true ? Surely, 
if ever a man was fairly and very badly beaten. 


guard’s prisoner 


315 


this one was. The result had been brought 
about, in a measure, by his own blundering, but it 
was none the less effective for that. If he would 
but acknowledge it — if he would cease to perse- 
cute us ! At the very thought of such a thing 
as that the world seemed suddenly to grow 
radiant. I had not seemed to realize before how 
much of our trouble, our unspoken apprehen- 
sion and dread of impending calamity was due 
to this man. 

“ Say,” Mr. Horton suddenly exclaimed, look- 
ing squarely in my face for the first time, “ I 
reckon I’ve been making an everlastin’ fool 
of myself long enough !” 


CHAPTER XXVI 


MR. HORTON CAPITULATES 

I HAD not been very polite to Mr. Horton be- 
fore that morning, but when he made the abrupt 
declaration that he had made a fool of himself 
long enough, I was civil enough to refrain from 
contradicting him. 

I ain’t had no breakfast,” he went on, pres- 
ently, glancing at his torn dress. “ I’m a pretty 
tough-looking subject, too, I reckon.” Again I 
did not dispute the statement. Looking away 
from me, he took a step or two toward the spot 
where his horse awaited him, then turned reso- 
lutely back again. “ Say, I’m going to own up 
while I’ve got courage to do it !” he exclaimed, 
speaking rapidly and with suppressed excite- 
ment : I ain’t treated you and your folks right. 
Miss Leslie ; I’ve knowed it all along ; but, you 
see, I’d got my mind set on that bit of land 
that your father took up — not that I needed it, 
316 


MR. HORTON CAPITULATES 317 

or anything of that kind — a claim would ’a’ been 
more bother than good to me as a general thing ; 
but I’d said to folks that I meant to have it 
and I’d managed to get up a kind of ugly pride 
in showing folks that what I said went, 
whether or no. 

My wife — she’s a good woman — I do’no what 
she’d do if she was to know all that I’ve done 
or tried to do, but I reckon you know pretty 
well. Miss Leslie. Well, you’ve known Jake 
Horton as he was. I’m going to give you all a 
chance to know him as he is now. When a man 
undertakes to do a bit of spite work like this ; 
work that he’s no call to feel proud of, and 
knows that so well that he tries to do it alone 
and in the dark, and is held back from making 
a consummate idiot of himself, and a criminal, 
too, like enough, by a dog and a young girl, it’s 
time to call a halt. That’s what I’m going to 
do. I’m going to call a halt and travel a new 
trail from this on. I don’t ask you to believe 
anything that I say. Miss Leslie, there ain’t no 
reason at present why you should, but there 


318 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


will be He paused to moisten liis dry lips. I 
looked up at him expectantly. I’m going to 
do what’s right by you and yours, from this 
on,” he said, in answer to the look. Despite 
my past acquaintance with him I believed him, 
and indignantly strove to smother the torment- 
ing little recollection that would keep obtruding 
itself — the recollection that, from the moment 
that the deed to the homestead was secured this 
man would be powerless to injure us, unless he 
did it openly and in ways that might be easily 
brought home to him, and it was now too late 
for him to do us any harm at the Land Office. 

I am ashamed to be obliged to record that 
Mr. Horton’s declaration of a change in his 
feelings toward us, and his promises of better 
conduct toward us in the future were accom- 
panied in my secret thought by such damaging 
reflections, but such was the case. The dic- 
tionary was under my arm and glancing down at 
it I said : ‘‘ I would like to know, if you don’t 
mind, Mr. Horton, how this book — and you — 
came to be under the ruins of that shack ?” 


MR. HORTON CAPITULATES 


319 


There was a big black and blue bruise on the 
back of Mr. Horton’s right hand, the hand that 
some weeks previously had been injured by an 
oak splinter, as he told his wife, on the night 
that I had fired at a man fleeing up the hillside. 
Looking attentively at the bruise, and not at all 
at me, Mr. Horton replied : 

‘‘Well; it was an easier thing to undertake 
than it is to tell ; that’s so. ’Bout as easy to tell 
though as it was to go through with. That’s a 
wide-awake dog of yours. Miss Leslie, lives up 
to his name, too. He was living right up to it 
last night when I sneaked up to your window 
after watching you and Miss Jessie go out to 
the corral, and making sure that the boy was 
asleep. I opened the window, got the book 
that, I made sure, was the Bible that I had 
seen put on the window ledge that morning, and 
started back toward my horse. But I’d forgot 
one thing, I’d forgot about the dog. He didn’t 
forget himself, though ; he came round the corner 
after me and I had to leg it like scat. I had 
studied some about him earlier in the day; 


320 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


enough so that I had thrown a j^iece of poisoned 
meat near the upper trail. Not seeing anything 
of him in the evening I never thought of him 
again until I felt him a-holt of my coat-tail, for 
he caught up with me in a minute. I dohio 
how it would V come out between us, but jest 
then while I was pulling up the hill and he was 
pulling back for all he was worth, we come to 
the meat, stumbled over it, in fact. The dog 
let go my coat — he’s young, I reckon — ” the 
victim interpolated, impartially ; ‘‘ an old dog 
wouldn’t a give up his game for such a thing as 
that — and stopped to sniff the meat. That give 
me time to reach my horse, but he come tearing 
after me like a whole pack o’ bloodhounds. 
After I was fairly in the saddle, though, I didn’t 
hear anything more of the dog. I ’lowed that 
he’d given up and gone back, or else that he’d 
swallered the meat and the poison had got in 
its work. I rode down along the ravine, feeling 
good. As I said, I’d planned it out beforehand. 
I knew jest what I was going to do with the Bi — 
dictionary. I didn’t ’low to plumb destroy it. 


MR. HORTON CAPITULATES 


321 


I ^lowed that when it was too late for it to be of 
any use to you — that is, after IM entered the 
claim — I’d see to it that it accidentally come to 
light again. I didn’t want to plumb destroy it,” 
he repeated apologetically. 

I made no comment, and Mr. Horton, pluck- 
ing a pine branch, began divesting it of its 
needles with fingers that shook a little in sj)ite 
of himself as he proceeded : 

I’d made up my mind to hide the Bi — dic- 
tionary in the old shack here until it was time 
to bring it to light again. Wlien I got to that 
break in the canon wall, down here, I imt the 
horse up the break and rode to the shack, and 
then — I made a mistake.” He paused to silently 
review this mistake, then continued : ‘‘ Instead 
of dismounting and carefully covering the book 
with the leaves, as I’d ought to ’a’ done, I jest 
slung it into the shack, letting it fall where it 
would. I heard it fall, soft like, on the leaves, 
and then I went on home. My wife, she had 
supper all ready, and I sot down and et it. I 
told her I was going to start right off, as soon 
21 


322 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


as Vd done eating, for town. She kind o’ ob- 
jected to my going then ; said she’d been want- 
ing to go herself, to help you folks when it come 
to jDroving up. That made me some mad, for I 
waa’t figuring on helping you then. But all the 
time that I was eating supper, and all the time 
that she was talking, I kept thinking: ‘ ’Spos’n 
some one should come along past that shack, 
look in there, and see that book lying there?’ I 
felt that I’d ought to ’a’ covered it up with 
leaves ” — “ and Robin Redbreast painfully did 
cover them with leaves,” ran the silent under- 
current of my thought, while I listened gravely 
to Mr. Horton’s elucidation of the mystery of 
the book. ‘‘ I felt it so strong that nothing 
would suit me, at last, but I must make my way 
back there and cover it before I started for town. 
So, while my wife thought, after I’d mounted 
again, that I was riding toward town, I was 
sneaking back up the canon. I tied my horse 
near the break in the wall, and went to the shack 
on foot, this time. It was as dark as a stack of 
black cats inside the shack. I couldn’t see a 


MR. HORTON CAPITULATES 


323 


thing — I stooped down, and was feeling h'ound 
’niong the leaves for the book, when I 
run up aghn’ a surprise.’’ Mr. Horton dropped 
the branch, now denuded of its needles, and 
stared thoughtfully at the bruise on his hand. 
“ That dog — he wan’t dead, as it turned out ; he 
hadn’t even gone back, or gone before. He was 
all there and ready for business — I had time to 
study the thing out whilst I was a lyin’ on my 
back, last night, starin’ up into his eyes that 
was glarin’ down into mine, through a chink in 
the logs — and I figured it out that he’d follered 
me, quiet, after I’d mounted ; then, when I 
threw the book into the shack, he’d gone in there 
and stayed with it. He knew that it belonged 
to his folks, and he meant to guard it. He did, 
too. As I was stoopin’ down, feeling round, 
something gave a yell, all at once, that made my 
hair stan’ up, stiff and spiky, all over my head, 
and, next thing, something — some animal — 
sprung at me with such force that I reeled and 
fell back ag’in’ the side of the shack, and then — 
the shack it fell, too. I do’ know’s I fainted !” 


324 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


Mr. Horton continued, reflectively ; “ I never 
have lost conscientiousness as I know of, but 
there was quite a spell that I didn^t realize 
where I was, nor what had happened. When I 
did come to I found that I was jiinned to the 
ground, and the animal — I hadn’t recognized 
him for your dog yet— was stretched out on the 
rubbish above my body, looking down at me and 
growling. The critter growled so ferocious 
whenever I tried to move that I gin up trying. 
I had found out, though, that the animal was a 
dog, and, nat’erally, I’d a pretty clear idea whose 
dog it was.” 

Mr. Horton concluded abruptly. He got up 
slowly and stiffly, and again started toward 
his horse. Watching him, as he walked away, 
I saw that he looked broken and humbled, and 
an impulsive desire to help him, who had 
so often hindered us, took possession of me. 
‘‘ Wait,” I cried, starting up suddenly, for I had 
also found a seat on one of the fallen logs ; 

wait a minute, Mr. Horton !” He stopped, and 
I went up to him. ‘‘ Mr. Horton, I said, ear- 


MR. HORTON CAPITULATES 


825 


nestly, ‘‘ I want to do what’s right. I am sure 
that you are sorry for what you have done — ” 

I am, you may believe me, Miss Leslie ; I 
am sorry. I’ve done many a mean thing in my 
life, but none meaner than this job of perse- 
cutin’ a couple of orphan girls and their baby 
brother, and I’ve known it, and been ashamed 
of it, all along in my own heart. But I’d never 
’a’ given in, nor given nor owned up to what I’m 
telling you this minute, Leslie Gordon, if you’d 
’a’ shown less spunk and courage ; and I’ll be 
as good a friend to you after this as I’ve been 
merciless enemy before it. I don’t ask you to 
believe me — ” 

But I do believe you ! I do believe you ! If 
I — if we can begin again — if keeping still about 
what happened last night — and — about other 
things ; the button, and the fire, and the crops, 
with your cattle brand on them,” I stammered, 
eagerly, not making things very clear .in my 
haste, but Mr. Horton understood me. 

‘‘ You are a good girl, Leslie,” he said, look- 
ing away from me; ‘‘ you are a good girl. You 


326 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


see, my wife believes in me — she’s a better man 
than I am.” 

‘‘Yes; she must not know. No one need 
know anything about it, for I have told no one. 
I have kept my own counsel, and I will keep it 
still.” 

Mr. Horton faced me now, holding out his 
hand. There was a mist over his hard eyes, 
and wonderfully softened and improved those 
same eyes were in such unaccustomed setting. 
I laid my hand in his, he clasped it closely for 
an instant, then dropping it, observed in his 
usual tones : 

“Well, I reckon I’ll ride over to the fur 
pasture ; then I’ll git home again jest about the 
time the folks come in from town.” 

“No,” I said ; “ come home with me first and 
have some breakfast, and get brushed up a lit- 
tle.” 

“I will,” he replied, readily, adding, with a. 
rueful glance at his torn clothing, “ I need a 
little mending done about as bad as any one I’ve 
seen lately.” 


MR. HORTON CAPITULATES 327 

Guard and I walked along the ravine with 
him, while he led his horse. On emerging from 
the ravine Mr. Horton suddenly stopped, and 
began looking anxiously around. “ That meat, 
now,’’ he observed, at length, ‘‘it ought not to 
be left layin’ around.” 

I had put the poisoned meat up in the fork of 
a pine tree, and now showed it to him. “ We’d 
better dispose of it,” he said, taking it down. 
Reaching the house, I went on in to prepare 
breakfast for my unlooked-for guest, who lingered 
outside until his horse was cared for ; then he 
came in, and, going straight to the stove, lifted 
the lid and dropped the meat on the glowing 
coals. “ There !” he exclaimed, replacing the 
lid, “that bit of death won’t hurt anything 
now.” 

An hour afterward, washed, brushed, and 
partially mended — for I do hate mending, even 
in a righteous cause, like this — breakfasted, and 
with his horse equally refreshed, Mr. Horton 
rode away, looking like, and, I am sure, feeling 
like, another man. 


328 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS 


Early in the afternoon I went over to the Wil- 
sons, and brought Ealph back with me. Long 
before they could possibly arrive we were both 
watching for Jessie's and Joe's return. The 
stars were shining big and bright, and Kalph 
was nodding sleepily in his high chair when the 
bays and the light wagon, with Jessie and Joe 
perched on the front seat, came rattling down 
the homeward road. Snatching Kalph, who 
was wide awake on the instant, up in my arms, 
I ran out to meet them. 

We didn't have one bit of trouble, Leslie!" 
cried Jessie, jubilantly, as the team stopped at 
the gate; “Mr. Horton never came near us. 
I'm afraid we've been almost too ready to believe 
evil of him ; but it won't matter now, anyway, 
for the land is ours, Leslie, ours !" 

“ Hit is so, honey, chile I" echoed old Joe's 
gentle voice. His black face was one expan- 
sive grin of satisfaction. “ Young Mas’r Ralph 
Gordon ain't nebber gwine want fur place to 
lay he head, now ; yo' listen at dat !’' 

“Neither is Joe 1" said Jessie, brightly, as 


MR. HORTON CAPITULATES 


329 


she sprang to the ground. “ Every one has 
been so kind, Leslie,’^ she continued, as we 
turned back into the house, while Joe drove on 
to the barn with the horses. ‘‘ Lots of the 
neighbors were down there, besides our wit- 
nesses. I feel so cheered, Leslie, dear. We 
have so many friends.’^ 

That was true, indeed ; but, as time passed, 
not one among them all proved to be more help- 
ful, steadfast, and efficient than was our erst- 
while enemy, Mr. Jacob Horton. 

THE END 


/ 


/• 

/ 



Comrades True 

OR 

PERSEVERANCE VS. GENIUS 

By Edward S. Ellis, A. M. 

Author of Among the Esquimaux,” 
‘‘The Campers Out,” etc. 

320 Pages Illustrated 

Cloth, $1.25 

In following the career of two friends from youth to 
manhood, this popular author weaves a narrative of 
intense and at times thrilling interest. One of the boys 
IS endowed with brilliant talents, is quick and impulsive, 
but after a few efforts is easily discouraged. The other 
possessing only ordinary ability, is resolute and persever- 
ing, overcoming all obstacles in his path until success is 
attained. 

This story possesses the usual exciting and interes„ng 
experiences that occur in the lives of all bright and active 
youths. In point of incident it is rather more than 
ordinarily realistic, as the two heroes in their experiences 
pass through the recent calamitous forest fires in northern 
Minnesota, and barely escape with their lives. 

The perusal of this story will not only prove fascinating, 
but its teaching will encourage young men to depend for 
success in life upon patience and perseverance in right 
paths, rather than upon great natural gifts, real or fancied. 

Sold by all booksellers, or sent, prepaid, upon receipt 
of price. 

The Penn Publishing Company 

9^3 Arch Street, Philadelphia 



Among the Esquimaux 

OR, 

Adventures Under the Arctic Circle 

By Edward S. Ellis, Ac M. 
Author of “ The Campers Out,” Etc 
317 pages Illustrated 

Cloth, I1.25 

The incidents of this interesting 
story are laid in Greenland amid the 
snows, the glaciers, and the barren 
regions which have engaged the at- 
tention of explorers and navigators 

for centuries past. 

The main interest of the story centres about two 
briglit boys whose desire for discovery sometimes leads 
them into dangerous positions. They visit an iceberg, 
and, while making a tour about it, their boat slips away 
from her moorings. After a number of adventures, they 
are finally rescued by a native Esquimau. With him 
and an old sailor who accompanied them them to the ice- 
berg, they go on a hunting expedition into the interior 
of Greenland, and there they have a number of most 
thrilling and exciting experiences, but none result seri- 
ously, and the whole party is eventually restored to home 
and friends. 

The story is sure to prove interesting to any reader, 
and the moral tone pervading it is such as will meet the 
approval of all parents. 

Sold by all booksellers, or sent, prepaid, upon receipt 
of price. 

The Penn Publishing Company 

933 Arch Street* Philadelphia 




The Campers Out 

OR 

The Right Path and the Wrong 

By Edward S. Ellis, A. M. 
Author of Among the Esqui- 
maux,” Comrades True,” etc. 

363 pages Illustrated 

Cloth, ;^i.25 

This is one of the most interesting 
works of an author whose productions 
are widely read and deservedly popu- 
lar on both sides of the Atlantic. Mr. 
Ellis has in perfection the faculty of 
making his stories not only entertaining in the highest 
degree but instructing and elevating. A leading journal 
truthfully stated that no mother need hesitate to place any 
story of which Mr. Ellis is the author in the hands of her 
boy, for he is sure to be instructed as well as entertained. 

“ The Campens Out ” is bright, breezy, and full of ad- 
venture of just the right sort to hold the attention of any 
young mind. It is clean, pure, and elevating, and the 
stirring incidents with which it is filled convey one of 
the most forceful of morals. It traces the “ right path ” 
and the “ wrong path ” of several boys with such strik- 
ing power that old and young will be alike impressed 
by the faithful portrayal of character, and be interested 
from beginning to end by the succession of exciting in- 
cidents. 

Sold by all booksellers, or sent, prepaid, upon receipt 
of price 

The Penn Publishing Company 

923 Arch Street, Philadelphia 


Andy’s Ward 

OR 

THE INTERNATIONAL 
MUSEUM 

By James Otis 

Author of “ The Braganza Diamond,” 
Chasing a Yacht,” etc. 

358 Pages Illustrated 

Cloth, ;^i.2 5 

A peculiarly fascinating narrative of the life and ex- 
periences of “ Museum Marvels.” They dwell in a house 
owned by a sword-swallower, whose wife, the Original 
Circassian,” is entrusted with its management. But one 
of the company, a dwarf, nicknamed the Major,” insists 
upon taking charge, and the rest of the household, including 
a fat lady, a giant, and a snake-charmer, stand more in 
awe of him than of the owner of the house or his wife. 

Two boys, Andy and Jerry, are employed to wait upon 
this queerly assorted family. Their troubles with the dwarf 
and his pets, during which the boys are aided and coun- 
selled by the giant, make up the lighter portion of the story. 

A tiny girl, who is even more of a dwarf than the 
<< Major,” is introduced to the household by Andy, who 
claims her as his ward, by virtue of a promise made to her 
brother when he was dying. 

The private life of the marvels, their amusements>, their 
wrangles, especially the laughable encounters between the 

Giant ” and the “ Major,” form a most interesting story. 

Sold by all booksellers, or sent, prepaid, upon receipt 
^f price. 

The Penn Publishing Company 

923 Arch Street, Philadelphia 



Chasing a Yacht 

By James Otis 
Author of 

“ The Braganza Diamond,” “Andy’s 
Ward,” etc. 

350 pages Illustrated 

Cloth, $1.25 

Two boys have engaged to run s 
steam yacht for the double purpose 
of pleasure and profit, and after care- 
fully fitting her up they launch her, only to find the next 
morning that she is gone — stolen — as they later discover, 
by two other boys who had been refused a half-interest 
in her. The rightful owners start in hot pursuit, and in 
an attempt to recapture the steamer are themselves 
made prisoners. It is the intention of the thieves to 
hold the owners prisoners until the Hudson River is 
reached and then put them ashore, but their plans mis- 
carry owing to the intervention of two rather rough 
citizens who find their way aboard the yacht and make 
themselves generally at home. Fortunately one of the 
owners manages to effect his escape, and gaining the 
assistance of the authorities the little vessel is speedily 
restored to them. 

The story is full of adventure, and the heroes are both 
bright and manly fellows, who make the best of their 
temporary hardships. The story will be found to enlist 
the interest at the outset, and to hold it until the last 
page is turned. 

Sold by all booksellers, or sent, prepaid, upon receipt 
of price. 

The Penn Publishing Company 

923 Arch Street, Philadelphia 




The Braganza Diamond 

By James Otis 
Author of 

“Chasing a Yacht/’ “Andy’s 
Ward,” etc. 

383 pages Illustrated 

Cloth, $1.25 

Long before the opening events of 
this story the fragments of this cele- 
brated gem are supposed to have 
been taken from a wreck by an old sea captain, and 
secreted by him on a lonely island in Roanoke Sound. 

This aged captain, now quite feeble, sends for his niece 
and her daughter. They invite two bright boys to 
accompany them, and engaging a steam launch the four, 
in company with the owner — a trusty sailor — set out for 
the lonely island. Arriving there they are distressed at 
finding the captain already dead. To add to their dis- 
comfort they also discover that the former owners of the 
diamond have appeared upon the scene. The little party 
is forcibly made prisoner, and their captors demand that 
they forthwith produce the precious stone. This, of 
course, they are unable to do, but discovering among 
the old captain’s effects a curious cryptogram, they are 
led to hope that its solution may reveal the secret hiding 
place of the diamond, and thus restore to them their 
freedom. This theory eventually proves correct, but not 
until after the party has endured many hardships, and 
passed through many exciting experiences. 

Sold by all booksellers, or sent, prepaid, upon receipt 
of price. 


The Penn Publishing Company 

923 Arch Street, Philadelphia 


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